The passing of my younger brother has slowly brought a quiet ache into my daily life. As the winter deepens, I find myself thinking about what it truly means to reflect on someone's life — not as a pathologist, but as a brother.
With the arrival of true winter, I finally put on my down jacket today.
It has a warmth that leather cannot match, and I will rely on it again this season.
The dry air has already begun to irritate my throat.
Since my brother passed away, a gentle but persistent sadness has been settling in.
The tension I had been carrying has loosened, and fatigue has begun to surface.
Thanks to another pathologist joining our department, daily work is manageable.
Still, while I relaxed for a moment, peer reviews and research assignments piled up.
I had intended to start fading out from such responsibilities, yet each task now feels heavier than before.
Bereavement echoes quietly in the heart.
While my brother was alive, communication was not always easy, but when I held his hand, he would squeeze back.
If I looked into his face, his eyes met mine.
And his body was warm.
None of that remains now.
As a pathologist for more than thirty years, I have faced many bodies.
I have learned from each case, and I believe those lessons have contributed—however slightly—to improving medical care.
I have also fulfilled the important role of explaining findings to grieving families.
We did not perform an autopsy on my brother.
Aspiration pneumonia was the likely cause, and the microscopic picture was easy to imagine.
People with Down syndrome often show somewhat accelerated aging, but at sixty, the difference is small.
There was nothing medically new to discover.
If anything, the remarkable part was how healthy he had remained until the end.
And yet, he died.
There may be value in summarizing his physical condition, but I did not feel compelled to do so.
It is never easy to summarize a human life.
One may look at the body, the way the person lived, or what they left behind.
But no matter the angle, no definitive conclusion emerges.
When I remember my brother, only the good comes to mind.
He had nothing but good in him.
