Eddie Died

My brother Died                                              Book title Page PPT

 

It was Saturday night September 12, 2015 at 9:00 pm, my brother who I have not seen for ten years because he was homeless, sleeping in cardboard boxes and in the bushes, felt weak and his friend told him he had better go to the hospital, because he was turning white. While sitting in the emergency room waiting room, my brother went lifeless from a massive heart attack.  The emergency room staff came out, shook the lifeless body, and announced a code blue.  My brother had died in the emergency waiting room.

Within seconds, the staff had the paddles of life attached to a defibrillator across his chest.  The first attempt to revive his heart failed. Resetting for the second try, the monitor still flat lined, a second shock was applied with no result.  On the third attempt, his heart was restarted.

As soon as he was stabilized in the emergency room, he was transported by helicopter to a hospital better equipped to help heart attack victims, where on a Saturday night at 11:00 PM one of the countries leading cardiologists was on duty.

The story that I am about to tell is not for everyone because it is true.

After returning from a conference in Las Vegas Brother Ron was sick with the flu and had been for the past seven days.  My body started to ache and my internal temperature started to rise. The same night my brother died, before I went to bed, wanting to sleep, I took a dose of flu medicine. I will never forget checking my watch, it was nine o’clock exactly because the medicine was supposed to work for four hours and I wanted to time it.

I normally do not dream and usually only gets a few hours sleep a night.  It seemed like right after I went to sleep I had a dream.  I tried to wake up, but was unable to break the dream until about four in the morning.

Most everyone already knows I am a surfer and in my dream for some reason, I was up North (Northern California) looking for waves.  I stopped in an area that I was unfamiliar with and the only place to park was in a local residential area across from the main highway. I went to park my van and I found a spot that was tucked away on a street that dead ended. I wanted to look at the surf before I took my board out to go in the water so I started walking toward the ocean.

As I was walking away from my van, I looked up the side of a sandy hill and saw my old sensei Hondo walking down the hill. Hondo was one of the few men I have ever respected. Hondo was a humble man who was one of the most feared men in Vietnam; he was a Colonel and a South Vietnamese Army paratrooper.  I met Hondo in an Aikido dojo in Orange County.  He was also a Catholic Christian.

In my dream, I thought it was unusual that I would see him walking down the side of that hill because he had died two years earlier. I went to his funeral where there were hundreds of men he served with, along with his family and friends.  The large church was overflowing with people who loved and respected him.

Nonetheless, I was happy to see Hondo who had always liked me.  I asked him if he wanted me to teach him to surf. He agreed, so we walked towards the ocean.  Upon reaching to the ocean, we notice that it was rough and the waves were big, so we decided to walk a little further down the beach. We walked for a long time and eventually went in the water.  The waves were still big and there was lots of debris coming into shore, nothing like I had ever seen before.

In my dream, we were almost hit by something so big it looked like a house floating in the water.  We got out of the water and started walking down the shore again. This time we were walking in and out of doorways and hallways, the doors were wooden and the hallways were painted in dark, flat colors in need of repainting and repair. A long time had passed so we decided to turn around and go back.  Walking back, the same way we came in and out of the doors and down the hallways.  People in the hallways were asking me how the waves were in Trestles. Trestles is a surf spot in San Diego County, way down South in San Onofre State Beach, not up North and I couldn’t figure out why they were asking me about Trestles.  Trestles is a spot, with several breaks, one is named Church. The surf spot is named after the Trestles Bridge, an old wooden bridge that surfers walk under to get to the surf.

 

Thinking back, I had my last board shaped and made in San Onofre by a world famous shaper who died of cancer a few years ago. When I got back to the sand hill, where I found Hondo, Hondo asked me if I wanted to go see his house.  I agreed and walked up the hill to a little house with an attached garage the garage door was open. I walked in Hondo’s garage and there were four men over six foot tall who were not wearing shirts. There were bullet wounds all over their flesh.  I saw the scabs and scars from the bullet and knife entry and exit wounds left on their flesh.  Hondo had vanished as fast as he appeared and there I was, alone with some of the toughest men that I had ever met. They didn’t want to embarrass me. because I consider myself tough, but next to these guys, I was a little old man. One of them asked me to work on his truck. They had compassion on me and did not want to embarrass me because of my apparent lack of martial arts skills. It was getting late so I asked them if they would give me a ride to my van.  After driving back to the spot where I thought I parked I couldn’t find my van. The rest of my dream we spent searching for the van that I never did find and I finally woke up.

I was the only one alive in my whole dream.

I got up about 4:00 o’clock in the morning and I noticed my phone had a message on it.  It was from a woman my brother knew on Social Media.  In the message, she asked me to give her a call that it was an emergency regarding Ed.

The message was sent on Saturday on or about 11:14 p.m.  I did not want to disturb her, so I sent her a text message asking about my brother.  Social media was the only source of contact I had with my brother.  If it had not been for Social Media, I would have never known anything, because my brother was homeless in the streets of Homealand, California.

The weird part of this is that my brother told me later that he went to the hospital at 9:00 pm.

About 11:30 AM the next day, Sunday, Ed’s Social media friend called me. She told me that my brother has blue lined or technically died in the hospital last night but the staff was able to revive him. She gave me the name of a hospital.   I tried to call the hospital she left him in and the hospital operator told me that they had no record of him and did not admit him to the hospital. I called my daughter who is a nurse and she was able to ask the right questions, finding him in a Riverside hospital alive.

My wife and I immediately went down to find him. This is the part where it gets weird.  Upon arriving at the hospital, we signed in and went up to my brother’s room, which was in intensive care. I found my brother’s room with the shades drawn, right across from the nurses’ station.  I thought I got there too late and that Ed had another heart attack and died.

When I went into the room to see my brother one last time, there he was sitting up in bed he started to cry and said to me,” Ronnie I am so lonely”. He was overjoyed to see me and we talked for a long time. I noticed how well he was for someone who had major surgery less than 3 hours ago, and was bleeding to death. I noticed how pale he seemed and my eyes were drawn to his legs with a black permanent ink mark on his right foot, like one, they put on cadavers in the morgue.  He kept holding on to me saying,” I love you Ronnie” I felt the strength in his hands, not like someone who just got out of surgery but like someone who has super strength. He did not seem to be in any pain at all, I have seen people who had similar operations and were not able to move for three to four weeks after the surgery. It was surreal, as if I was talking to a dead man.

The nurse was going to take him down for testing so after about three or four hours we decided to leave. When I got home I realized that all the men in my dream and were dead except for me and I was lost.  Hondo found me in the dream went into hell with those four guys and brought my brother out for me to see before one last time.

Looking through my prideful eyes I see myself as the mediator, I see myself as the one who can help others. However, I m the one who needs the help because, truly, I am lost.  I humbly ask that God forgive me for being lost, as I forgive myself. May God give me the strength and the courage to flee from the devil in order that I may find my way on the narrow path.

“And the LORD said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And Cain said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?  “  But who has this world’s goods, and see his brother have need, and shut up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelled the love of God in him, My brother’s death allowed me to realize my own condition of being lost.  Moreover, YES, I AM my brother’s keeper, thanks be to God king of the universe for reminding me.

 

I would like to take the liberty to share some real adventures in my life and dispel any fear that you m