I was just eleven years old, happily hanging out with my friends during recess, when I noticed Mavi alone in his snow fort. He looked…lost. I went to check on him, and that’s when everything changed. He was crying, clutching his head, saying it hurt. I helped him to the school office, but then he started to be sick, and a wave of fear washed over me.
My parents arrived, bringing my tiny baby brother, Salvador, who was only two months old. They took Mavi to the hospital, and my friends were sent to pick me up. But something felt terribly wrong. It was confusing, unsettling. My parents explained over the phone that Mavi was in the hospital, but they didn’t tell me why, and the uncertainty was agonizing.
That night, I slept in my school uniform, tears soaking into the fabric. I cried myself to sleep, a hollow ache in my chest. The next day, I went to a birthday party, still in uniform, but the joy was gone. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful was happening, and the constant crying wouldn’t stop.
It turned out Mavi had suffered an AVM rupture – a frightening diagnosis I barely understood. My Grandma Jeanie flew in from New Brunswick, and for months, it was just the three of us – me, Grandma, and our dog, Bryan – at home. My parents and Salvador stayed close to Sick Kids Hospital, a world away from our normal life.
A week passed before I could even visit my parents at the hospital. A whole month went by before I finally saw Mavi. I was terrified. I had no idea what to expect. The moment I saw him, I burst into tears. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, a stark and overwhelming sight. But I knew I had to be strong, for him.
Returning to school was difficult. Everyone asked what happened, constantly, relentlessly. After two months and several surgeries, Mavi moved to Holland Bloorview, a rehabilitation hospital. It was a turning point. They understood the importance of involving siblings, and I was able to help with things like his feeding tube and therapy. It felt good to contribute, to be useful.
Then, a year after he first got sick, Mavi took his first steps. It was a moment of pure joy, a testament to his incredible strength. I was bursting with pride. My brother is amazing. He faces every challenge with unwavering determination, and I admire him more than words can say. If I could wish one thing for him, it would be to regain everything he’s lost.
Our family has found incredible support at Variety Village, a place where everyone, regardless of ability, can participate. Mavi plays Volt Hockey and Challenger Baseball, and Salvador and I take swimming lessons there. It’s become a vital part of our lives, a place of inclusion and joy.
Knowing what it’s like to care for someone, to help them through difficult times, changes you. It fosters empathy and understanding. It makes you realize the importance of community and the power of support. It’s a lesson I’ll carry with me always.
