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August 2005

The Lost Years

The sadness of a late amends

My younger brother, Victor, desperately tried to suck oxygen out of a face mask. I stood helplessly beside his hospital bed, gripping his arm. His eyes were wide with fear. He clutched the mask tightly against his face, trying to get every last molecule into his lungs. But no matter how much he took in, he couldn't get enough. He had pneumonia, and his lungs were filling with fluid.

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