Friday 3 September 2010

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My Dear Brother

By: Desy Kristianti

My older brother hated me. He never cared about me. He always abused me. He once pushed me when we were walking downstairs, and as a result, I must spend the rest of my whole life in a wheelchair. I got paralysed. Not only that, he once tried to lock me in my room when the house was on fire, knowing that I could not walk nor run. Since then I got a phobia of fire. He has also tried to kill me by throwing a knife towards my head. I was grateful that God had once saved my life.

It had been 7 years after I got married. My ex-wife wanted me to move to her country, so it was quite hard for me to reach my family, including my brother. Now, since my wife had passed away, I had nothing else to do in her country. So I would like to go back and live with my family again.

I just wanted to surprise my family a little bit, so I decided not to tell them that I was going back. I finally saw my house. There were some slight changes, but our memories were still there inside. I rang the bell several times, but nobody came to open the door. I tried to call the home phone number, but nobody answered. “What the hell is happening?” I wondered. I looked around and saw an old man who was probably a neighbour. I waved my hand and he waved back.

“Are you Daniel?” the old man asked me.

“Yes, I am. I am Daniel Peterson, the youngest son of the family who lived in this house. Do you know whether they still live in here?”

“Oh, yes, they do. How come you do not know where your own family lives?” he asked me suspiciously. I regretted not telling my family that I was going back.

“Oh I wanted to surprise them that I am going back, so yeah...”

“Surprise them? Do you not know that your brother just became blinded??”

“What??? Are you kidding me???”

“Oh young man... I am already very old, why should I joke about a serious problem?”

“OK! OK! Then do you know in which hospital he is now??? Could you please bring me there?”

“Sure, Mr Peterson. Let me drive your wheelchair.”

10 minutes walking down the street, I could see the hospital already. I gave the old man some dollars for bringing me here, because he kept talking about his hunger on the way here. I entered the hospital and looked for my brother’s room. Once I got there, I saw the doctor was talking to my brother and my parents. I overheard the conversation. My brother needed an eye donor as soon as possible for his business’ reason, and the doctor did not have one at the moment. I did not dare to continue overhearing, so I decided to wait outside, and talk to the doctor myself later on.

The next day, my brother underwent surgery on his eyes. When he could see properly again, the doctor passed him a letter. Here is what the letter said:
“Dear David,
When you read this letter, I would probably have been in heaven. I am the one who donated my eyes to you. I hope you would be happy to have my eyes. You do not need to pay me, or give me anything in return. What I want you to do is just to love our parents, and never abuse other people, like what you did to me when we were young. I wish you all the best. May God bless you in every second of your life.
With a sincere love,
Daniel Peterson.”
He eventually cried. He visited my grave with my parents. He regretted being very mean to me, and he went to make my parents live happily ever after.

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