The Letter

Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk. ~Susan Scarf Merrell

Dear Brother.

One memory sets itself away from the rest. Do you remember that day? It was quite a while ago. In that old place. A rainy night, in the backyard. We stood behind that chain linked fence as the rain crashed against the street. You could see each droplet, unique and simple, dance in the street lights.

I forgot what caused me to say this, just some unyielding childhood thought; But as the rain hit against the small umbrella that shielded me, held by you, i whispered softly one simple question. "Did you know that when it rains it means gods crying?"

You looked at me and replied, questioningly, "Why's he crying?"

I looked back, unknowing, and replied with sincerity. "I don't know." And i didn't know. I still don't. Why would god cry? Why does anybody cry? Because we mourn? Because we are gravely disappointed? Is god gravely disappointed in us?

A lot of memories follow me, and a lot don't, from those days you were always here. Since you left I grew, blossomed, wilted, and blazed. So many things you would never know, yet so many I wish you did.

This letter will never reach you. I don't know how to speak the words blocked and locked inside me. I love you so much. But when I see you I can never hug you in the way I want.

I joke to myself, saying I have such a brother complex.

I always knew I looked up to you. You would get annoyed to no end on how I imitated you. You liked Pokemon and so there-for I liked Pokemon. You introduced me to the basis of anime, and I grew to enjoy it. I branched on from the basis of what I copied, growing myself. I was no longer you, but me. I try to be true to myself. It was comical really.

And all the things I ever did to disgrace myself to you. Being that annoying nuisance of a baby sister-I really am sorry.

But, I learned, I wasn't alone.

My fears that you had forgotten me, erased me from your mind, may have been not so.

There was this one time, our Uncle Paul was taking care of me. In a sense. He had a drink to many, and despite the fact that my anxiety spikes up to peculiar levels around drunken people, I welcomed these conversations. I learned so much. So much more about him than even our other aunts and uncles knew of him. I know his reasons for drinking. And, despite the scrutiny he is served by my family, I have so much respect for him.

He gave me a most cherished gift. You drew him a drawing, remember? You found it once on a visit here. I was so afraid you'd take it. It was important to him. As it is now important to me. He told me something when he gave me that drawing. You had talked to him about me.

Me.

I finally found out the reason behind your leaving. Despite the obvious-you were sick of where we lived.

You regretted leaving me alone, too. Mom had just gotten sick. It wasn't easy, Brother, not at all.

But, I'm glad I went through it. It helped me. I love you. Truly.

Signed,
Allysa

P.S. I know your graduated and all, but don't forget the little people. You still owe me that car ride.