From the beginning, the doctors said he wouldn’t make it. Having been the only twin who survived the birth, not enough oxygen filled his lungs. It’s not like his mother would have known, she was too busy trying to fulfill the delivery on her own. But none the less, baby Raul made it. He was, as the doctor said once they got to the hospital, a “miracle baby”.
And said miracle baby grew to be a handsome your man, always getting taken care of his older brother, my dad. My Uncle Raul was probably that rare, lone ray of sunshine on a gloom winter day. He was always trying to please everyone, lighting up their day. I guess it was his humbling appreciation for life and laughter. Even from a young age, he knew he was lucky to be on this earth, and never took any second of it for granted. My uncle did everything possible to make our family one: If there were disputes, he was the first in trying to resolve them. If anybody needed help, and that is anybody, they could count on him. If it was a family member’s birthday, he was the first to call, and set up a get together. Life was his party, and he danced through all of it, never looking back.
But the eternally grateful didn’t live continue living a healthy life. When he was seven, he began having convulsions, his body a nervous lump, unable to regain control or consciousness of anything. It was a nasty shadow that haunted him everywhere he went. The doctors blamed in on the tragic, yet heroic, story that was his birth, and prescribed his medicine accordingly. And so, he went on having his convulsions, and “calmed them” with that medicine for years and years.
Eventually the handsome bachelor went on to fulfill his dream: Married, and had his first child, a healthy baby boy. But, only a day after the birth, the happiest father in the world was found dead, face down in his room. He had the worst of his convulsions, and the only person in that, his new home.
After autopsy we were informed, that all those years, he had been misdiagnosed. The convulsions were not because of what happened during his birth, but bacteria infesting his brain after he ate some bad meat at the age of seven. ” It’s amazing he lead a pretty normal life for twenty two years” the nurse confessed. ” A miracle, some might call it”. And that’s how he will forever be remembered, the “miracle baby”, “miracle man”. Though I’m not happy he left us at such a young age, I’m grateful he shed his light on my life, at least for a little while. And, I will forever try to live my life as he did, with a smile on my face and humbleness in my heart.
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