On this anniversary of my brother Eric’s death, I feel the usual lump form in my throat. It’s a feeling that starts there then moves to my eyes, where I can feel the corners get wet and well up with tears.
It’s the same feeling I get when I pick up the phone to call him, only to remember I can’t because the only thing I’ll hear is a message telling me that his number has been disconnected.
It’s the feeling I get when I land in Las Vegas for a visit with Mom, bleary-eyed from working all night, only to realize that I won’t be able to see him because he is gone.
The old adage is absolutely true – it never gets easier. And, regardless of how much time passes, I know that the pain of my brother’s death will never subside.
On this July 4th, I find myself questioning why a holiday marked by fireworks, flags and barbecues also happens to be the same day Eric’s life came to an end. It is a day uniquely American, the one when we honor our nation’s independence and wrap ourselves in patriotism. But to me, the red-white-and-blue celebration of American exceptionalism stands in stark contrast with memories of my brother’s struggle.
But Eric’s story is also uniquely American. Only in America, the richest nation in the world, could someone fall victim to a broken health care system in the way he did. We are a nation capable of game-changing medical advances and a widely touted claim of “best health care in the world,” all while we allow special interests and corporations to keep a tight grip on the very technology that could save the lives for which it was intended and score a woeful 37th in overall health care on the World Health Organization’s global rankings. All in the name of the bottom line.
So much has happened since Eric’s death on July 4, 2009. I left the TV news business for a while and found myself speaking at health care rallies across the country. I was soon in Washington, D.C, crisscrossing Capitol Hill in a quest to share Eric’s story with each and every member of Congress. My mission even landed me in France, where I spent time researching international health care policy in a country the WHO ranked as the best in the world for health care – 36 countries ahead of ours.
In Eric’s memory, I created a non-profit organization – the Eric De La Cruz Hope For Hearts Foundation – to help others who need a heart transplant but are tangled in the same insurance red tape and face the same astronomical expenses that come along with the procedure.
I found myself witnessing not one – but two – watershed moments in our nation’s history: the passage of health care reform in March 2010 and the Supreme Court?s ruling to uphold of the law last week.
So many things have happened over the last three years, and though he is gone, Eric was a part of each of them. My brother was my inspiration. Through his public struggle, he also inspired thousands of others, and had a voice in our health care debate as loud as anyone’s. Before he died, Eric made me promise that what happened to him would never happen to anyone else ever again. So, I have worked long and fought hard to make good on my promise, making it my mission to ensure his dream comes true and his voice echoes for years to come.
In the end, of course, it was Eric’s ultimate sacrifice which led us here. As the face of a broken health care system, Eric inspired a nation to change and reminded so many of us that if we wanted equality in our ability and rights to protect not just our health, but our lives, we must stand up and say something. For that reason, I will always feel my brother Eric is a true American hero and patriot.
Eric, I miss you. Because of you, we have strengthened the fabric of the United States and give our nation more to be proud of.
Not only do we love you, but on this day we salute you.
Veronica
