Can Disease be a Gift?

June 21st of this year was the longest day of the year for me in more ways than one; it was the day my brother Greg went home to God. He had bravely fought lung cancer for just under three years when the disease he battled so hard against took over. I was with him when he passed, our two hands joined with a rosary wrapped around them. It was a moment I will never forget as long as I live.

There was nothing fair about this, Greg lived a very healthy life and didn’t smoke. I don’t mean to suggest that smokers ask for or deserve cancer, but what are the chances that a non-smoker who followed a very healthy diet and exercised regularly would succumb to such a disease, and so quickly? It was under three years from initial diagnosis to the time he died. It just didn’t make any sense.

Compounding matters was the fact that he had a loving wife, Carolyn, at home and two young girls who are just thirteen and fifteen. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, weddings—Greg’s physical presence would be missed at all of these and as I settled into this new reality, grief started to get the best of me. I found it difficult to get out of bed. I was moody. I bottled up my emotions to the point of snapping at my wife over a Bolognese sauce—who does that? I was reeling!

As time went on, I started to focus more and more on just how unfair life was for my brother over the past fifteen years. Cancer wasn’t his only fight—Greg was diagnosed with long-term Lyme’s disease which led to a whole host of neurological problems. In fact, it took years for his care team to find the right combination of antibiotics to get him functioning again. He had been checked out of life for some time while battling Lyme, to the point where once he was healthy Carolyn rejoiced by proclaiming, “I finally have my husband back.” This joy wouldn’t last, however, because once he got back into the swing of things having battled one disease, he was diagnosed with another. But somewhere in this story lies a miracle.

Prior to fighting Lyme, Greg was not close to the Church. We were all raised Catholic, but sometime in his young adulthood Greg decided that religion wasn’t for him. I remember going to a funeral with him shortly after the newest translation of the mass went into effect in 2011 and my sister and I had to prepare him that things were going to sound a little unfamiliar and at the first, “And with your spirit,” he was one of the few who mistakenly said, “And also with you.” Then, something interesting happened. Greg not only started going back to Mass but became very involved in his local parish.

I asked Carolyn about this in one of the many conversations we had after his passing. The motivation behind Greg’s rejuvenated faith life wasn’t something he publicized. She mentioned that he would disappear at times during the week and on the weekends and during those times would have no idea where he was. When she confronted him about this, Greg told her he’d been talking to a priest to help finding meaning in his illness and he eventually found his way back to the Church. We all question why God allows bad things to happen to good people and maybe in my brother’s case Lyme’s disease was a gift by God to bring Greg back to the Church. Sounds crazy, right? Well, the Lord does work in mysterious ways.

Greg’s story, obviously, doesn’t end there. The big blow to his life was yet to come—the cancer diagnosis. How could that possibly be a gift you might ask? It’s a more than fair question. To understand that you need to know what happened in Greg’s life after his diagnosis. Greg was an entrepreneur who worked seven days a week running his retail wine business.  His job truly was a lifestyle job that didn’t stop on weekends and holidays. He really put his all into his business. Upon his diagnosis, though, his made some significant changes. Greg decided that he wanted to maximize the amount of time he had with his family before he passed (the diagnosis was Stage IV lung cancer, and he knew his time was limited). He turned over the reins of the business to his manager and spent more time at home.

He spent a lot of time in his yard building a garden specifically to attract hummingbirds—he was fascinated by them. Few things brought him joy like seeing a hummingbird come into his yard. He began to find more joy in the simple things in life than he ever did running his business. His girls saw more of him than they ever did and, so long as his health was good, he made every game, school meeting, and family celebration during this time. A perfectionist in the kitchen, he spent countless hours perfecting his meatball recipe.

A year into his diagnosis, his treatment was working well. So well, in fact, that Greg, Carolyn, and I ran a 4-mile race on the fourth of July in 2021. Is there a better way to stick it to lung cancer than by running a four-mile race? The two of them wore tee-shirts with the words Believe in Miracles and I can tell you the tears that flowed down my face when the two crossed the finish line hand in hand were tears of pure joy; not only was I witness to Greg and his wife crossing the finish, but the love these two had between them could really be felt. It was a beautiful thing; one . But the road was about to get rocky.

Greg knew that his first line treatment wasn’t going to work forever, and shortly after that race, his symptoms reappeared. This took him down the road of traditional radiation and chemotherapy. From that point in the late summer of 2021 until his passing in 2023, Greg’s health fluctuated significantly. Throughout it all, his loving wife was his biggest cheerleader and caretaker. While their love story is theirs to share, I can tell you that the bond between them is more than just romantic love—it is rooted in a spiritual nature. You could see it and feel it when they were together.

When the end was getting closer, Greg spent a lot of time in the hospital. His care team would come in frequently poking and prodding him and no matter how much discomfort they put him through, he always said thank you to them. He was filled with gratitude even when the pain was unbearable. Another miracle if you ask me.

On his last day on Earth, Greg had trouble holding his head up. He was riddled with pain and the only comfortable position he could find was sitting upright, with his head resting on his chest. It looked anything but comfortable. These are the last images I have of my brother when he was alive. At one point, in the early evening, Carolyn left the room to get something to eat, leaving me and a friend alone with Greg. He breathed his last breath shortly thereafter. I struggled for a while after his passing as his final moments weren’t what you’d characterize as peaceful. There was a struggle. I had a hard time reconciling the strong and confident brother I grew up with the man who couldn’t keep his head up as he lay dying. My grief overtook me, and I clearly needed help to process what had happened to my brother and my reactions to it. Instead of turning to a therapist or grief counselor, though, I approached a priest with whom my brother was close to.

Fr. David Roman wept alongside me when I met with him in his office. It reminded me of how Jesus wept when hearing the news of his friend Lazarus’ passing. I walked him through the details of my brother’s final moments—his struggles to breath and his inability to hold his head up—and Fr. David immediately drew a parallel to Jesus on the cross, often depicted with his head down, resting on his chest. With that observation, something changed in me and the grief I had been experiencing turned to wonder. I often asked, “Where are you God?” while in my brother’s hospital room and I came to learn the answer was, “Right in front of you.”

I’ve lost count of people who came to spend time with my brother on the last day of his life. The love that surrounded my brother on his last day was immeasurable. While many tears were shed that day, he was surrounded by love and how many times have you heard the saying that God is love? I truly believe that God surrounded my brother as he transitioned from this life to the next.

In the months that have passed, I’ve come to believe that my brother was called home not because he was being punished for mistakes he made in this life, but as a reward for all the good he’d been able to accomplish and all that he had learned. He was able to support many charities through his businesses, he found true love and started a beautiful family, and he died knowing the secret to a full life—finding joy in all that he had. Experiencing joy in the simple things God has given us.

I mentioned before how Greg was fascinated by hummingbirds. A few weeks ago, I had just left a morning mass at a quaint church in West Hollywood, CA where I was spending the weekend, and realized it was my brother’s wedding anniversary. I stopped to get a coffee just steps away from the famed Sunset Strip and called Carolyn let her know that I was thinking about her. As I was leaving her a message, something caught my eye in the garden adjacent to the coffee shop—a beautiful hummingbird was fluttering it’s wings no more than five feet away from where I was sitting. Talk about a Godwink!