There are a lot of people I know who believe in miracles. Until my personal spiritual experience, I did not believe in miracles and remained skeptical of them.
My “little” brother (he is 54 years old), who is five years younger than I, was born the same day as I was, June 11th. My parents were throwing me a birthday party with friends, family, with balloons, and cake when my brother chose to come out into this world. Since then we have been like twins, the Yin to each other’s Yang.
We celebrated our birthdays every year on the same day. This was fine until I became 15 and it was no longer fun to share a birthday with a 10-year-old. Being born on the same day has left an indelible mark on our lives. We used to like to bake, eat, cook together, we were accomplices in the kitchen. Each year at our birthday party there was always a chocolate cake for me and a vanilla cake with strawberries and whipped cream from him.
As we grew up older and pursued our individual paths to adulthood, we spent some years far apart in different countries, and a few others together back home. We continued to phone each other and commented on our birthday cakes; I would have my chocolate cake and he would have his vanilla cake with strawberries and whipped cream.
I went on to become an engineer and marriage brought me to the United States, where I settled and have lived since with the love of my life. My brother went to medical school in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and then returned to Peru to begin his career as a doctor.
In the past two years, our lives as we knew them have drastically changed, as we have lived through a pandemic, and have yet to see the “light at the end of the tunnel”. All we have to do now is to learn how to live with it, to adapt to a new way of life.
My “little” brother, from the start of the pandemic, stayed on the front lines to assist the sick in their battle against the virus. He was exposed to it everyday. We, his family, were in constant fear of him contracting it. Last year, on a cold winter day in Lima we received the dreadful message that he had been infected with the virus in the hospital where he works.
We were scared. He quarantined himself, and after a period of isolation he was able to return to work. Not so lucky a few months after, November, when he contacted us to say he had gotten the virus again at work. “He got it again!!!!” was my initial reaction, and it came out of my lips a bit (well really a lot) irritated, not thinking much about the seriousness of the illness.
We were expecting it to be the same as the last time. But it wasn’t the case. For a week, I communicated with him every day, inquiring about his condition, how he felt, and how the symptoms were advancing; he would say he was fine, but he wasn’t. He did not want to go to the hospital for treatment. He expected it to be the same as the previous time. But on the seventh day he became so sick with the virus that he had to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance.
When he was admitted to the hospital we lost communication with him. He was in critical condition and in no state to communicate. Dr. GM, a good friend, whom I will be eternally grateful and who worked in the hospital where my “little” brother was admitted, was a huge assistance to us. She was our link for any information she could find. Days passed and we received more bad news about his condition. The physicians in his care would tell us to expect the worse. We did not want to believe, but it seemed so real and so close to the end. Especially on the day the nurse made the courtesy call, the one before the end, holding the phone for him to say his goodbyes to my mother, my sister and myself.
My brother said he had seen our father, who had passed away at the beginning of the pandemic, and had told him that he was not there to take him, that it was not his time, and he should pray to “el Señor de los Milagros”. When I heard that, I remembered that I had a booklet somewhere with prayers to “el Señor de los Milagros”, and I wondered where it could be. Had I already thrown that booklet away?
I looked for the booklet, and found it in the first place I looked. When I opened it, there was a photograph of my “little” brother sitting at a kitchen table in Buenos Aires, very young, studying to be a doctor in Argentina. What I was seeing astounded me; how could this be, could this be an indication that he would survive the virus? I really wanted to believe it. I prayed the prayers, also known as “la novena,” which is a nine-day prayer. I was convinced it was a sign and that he would overcome it.
In the days that followed, there was only more bad news. We, along with many friends, family members, and wonderful individuals who did not know my brother or our family, prayed fervently for his recovery. We had faith and hope but these were fading with each passing day.
After over two weeks after his initial signs of covid, to our surprise, he began to recover. He himself began to show signals of optimism, where there had previously been none. There were many prayers and support, as well as numerous messages of encouragement.There was hope once more after so many nights of falling asleep from exhaustion from crying and praying and hoping.
There was so much joy the day he came out of the ICU and then the hospital. The day we were able to see him, to talk to him, to embrace him, my heart swelled with excitement . He was frail and needed assistance to walk. We were ecstatic that he was still physically with us, his family that loves him so much. This was our miracle, the intervention of a higher power.
I knew I loved my brother, I knew that we had a bond from the moment he was born, and that no matter what happened, we would always be there for each other. What I did not realize was that I loved him so much as to put my own life on hold. Today, four months later, as I sit comfortably at my desk, looking out at the bright blue sky of Texas, thinking how different our lives could be, my heart is full of joy, full of peace and of hope. I see my brother surrounded by his loved ones, happy, grateful and hopeful. I know the day will come when we will be separated, but for now, I am thankful we are still only a call away.
Love today as if it were the last day of your life.
Maria Noack
Written March 6th 2022
