I remember begging my mother to let me take my brother to pool. My mother had said, “no, he’s still too young to go to the pool without me.” But I begged her saying, “I won’t take my eyes off of him. Please, let him come with us!” Reluctantly, my mother agreed against her better judgment and let my brother accompany my sister and me to the pool.
There are certain moments in our lives that we never forget. I was only eight-years-old when I pulled my brother’s lifeless body out from the bottom of the community pool.
And I haven’t forgotten a single shiver that ran through my bones that day.
I remember the exact position of his body as it hung, motionless, in the water. I remember the blood. The blood seeping out of his mask, and my blood turning cold. I remember how long time felt from when I grabbed his body to when I broke through the surface.
My screaming is the only thing I don’t remember. It felt like I was in a dream and I was trying to scream, but nothing was coming out.
My screams were later described by witnesses as “blood-curdling.”
My brother’s body rested on the ground, no breathing, no pulse. He was just a few days shy of turning four years old.
The man that began CPR on my brother was crying. He had never been taught how to do CPR before. “I’ve only seen it done on TV.” He said as his quivering hands pumped up and down against my brother’s chest. The janitor of the community center was also crying as he held my brother’s head and whispered prayers to God in Spanish.
I was being held back by a woman, a stranger from the pool. My hands were flailing in the air, and my feet were stomping at the ground as I cried out to God. I just wanted to hold my brother and tell him that I was sorry, and he would never have to go to the pool with me again.
I could hear the sirens of the firetrucks, police cars, and the ambulance flying down the road. There was still no pulse, no breathing.
My brother was dead.
Time happens in a weird way when you’re experiencing tragedy. One minute everything is happening at light speed, and then the moment is just happening and it happens for what feels like 100 years and you’re there, but you’re watching from the outside.
During this strange time warp, my brother began breathing again. A man who had never been taught CPR or performed it had brought my brother back to life. It was a miracle from God.
The doctor said that he should have died that day. The amount of time that had passed, the possible seizure that happened in the water, everyone said that he was supposed to die.
I’m telling this story because it has been 13 years and my brother finally talked about his drowning with me.
We went back to this moment together and it became something beautiful to talk about all these years later.
But the most important thing that I realized was that he’s here with me. I thank God for this miracle because I don’t know what I’d do without my brother.
