When You Wish Upon a Star

She looked so happy standing up there with the Cinderella and Prince Charming of her fantasies. Up on the float, she wore her own ball gown; a miniature version of her favorite princess’s in her favorite color. The cotton candy pink dress was matched with an equally pink headscarf that was wrapped around her bare head. But my little sister certainly didn’t care.

Caitlin had a smile that rivaled any Disney princess’s and even Jasmine had sworn that she’d perfected the princess wave. She really was living her dream; her wish.

It had started out like an ordinary flu. Caitlin sat at home with the chills, night sweats, fevers, and an awful stomach ache for a week. Our mother, a nurse, began worrying as her symptoms worsened and Caitlin began losing weight rapidly. It wasn’t long before she was diagnosed with acute leukemia and required immediate treatment.

It had taken a full year of waiting, but just a few months before our arrival in Disney Land, my referral for Caitlin’s wish to be granted went through. She was to be a Disney princess for a day.

As the float neared our perch at the end of the parade route, my mother wrapped an arm around me and pulled my body into her side.

“Thank you,” she squeezed me close and kissed my head. “You did this. Your father and I couldn’t be more proud to have two amazing daughters.”

I leaned my head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Ma. But it was all Caitlin. She’s the one who insisted on wearing that crown every day.” It was true. When she first went in for treatment, she had a full head of long, auburn locks that were identical to mine. But as she underwent chemo, it fell out. To ease the shock of going bald, a nurse had given her a Disney princess tiara, which she rarely took off.

“Your mom’s right,” my father piped up as he filmed the procession on our video camera. “Caitlin might be a fighter, but you’re the lover.” He turned to me so that my face would be on tape. “You’re the one that put this together.”

“You had to sign the waivers,” I reminded him. “I’m not her legal guardian.”

“That’s not the point,” my mother kissed my head again. “Just know that we’re proud of you both.”

I let my mouth show a small smile before turning to capture Caitlin as she passed with my own camera. She knew we were somewhere around here and she began peering around Cinderella’s dress and Prince Charming’s legs. When she found us, any sort of princess wave she had disappeared.

Instead, she frantically waved to us; using both her hands. Her smile got bigger- if that was possible. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and Cinderella and Prince Charming didn’t seem to exist to her anymore. It was just her, Princess Caitlin.



I open my eyes with the image seared to my lids.

“That’s my favorite image to remember my sister by,” my hands tremble as I stand at the pulpit of our church. “As the princess she will always be.”

I back away and place a hand over my mouth as the tears come. I’d held it together for my short speech, but now that my voice is no longer required, I know that my throat will be raw from the crying.

Walking into my parents embrace, my heart brakes for what may be the twelfth time that day as I hear sobs wrack their bodies and fill my ears. It’s not fair that she was taken from us, not after what seemed like such an upturn.

Caitlin had started responding so well to the treatments after our trip to Disney. It had lifted her spirits so much and it finally seemed like things would be better.

But our hope was short lived.

Just three short months after her wish had been granted by the Make-a-Wish Foundation, and just weeks after I’d started my senior year, Caitlin passed away.

We were all there with her.



As her small coffin is lowered into the ground, I stand with my parents huddled against me. But a small hole in our embrace remains open. Between mine and my mother’s legs is a gap that should hold Caitlin.

When the burial is over, many people begin the slow and deliberate walk to their cars. Only our immediate family remains at the grave site which is tragically beautiful.

No one talks and it’s like we’re all holding our breath and wishing. Wishing that Caitlin will pop from behind one of the many trees and say she is just playing hide and seek; that this is all just a horrible dream. It wouldn’t be a nightmare because she’d be back here with us.

“I wonder if they have crowns up in heaven,” I squint up at the sky through the last of my tears. My voice is hoarse, like expected. Out of my deep coat pocket, I take out the two tiaras.

The first one, the one she’d received while still in the hospital, is cheap and plastic. The second, the one from the parade, is much nicer and after her day as a princess, Caitlin had only wanted to look at it, afraid she would break it.

My mother chokes on another sob and I look at her with a pained expression. I hadn’t meant to make it worse. My father squeezes my shoulder and I’m surprised to hear a quiet breath of a laugh.

“I’m sure they’ve got one waiting for her.”