By Emily Chalambaga, Editor-at-Large
1, 2, 3… remember to breathe. 1,2, 3… breathe. Except I can’t breathe. Reality is becoming too much for me to handle right now. Look at the tiled floor, the depressing gray walls, the baby crying, just looking at anything to make it all go away.
A nurse is talking and trying to grab my attention but she is a ghost in my head. Nothing seems real. It can’t be real. You’re not dead. It’s too soon.
They said it was gone and you were okay.
Fucking liars.
A switch flipped in me. My mind went from empty to seeing red. I was angry. Angry at the doctors for not doing enough, at Mom and Dad for giving me hope, and at the world. You were only 5, Brianna. You had your whole life ahead of you. You were my light in the dark. You are my sun… were my sun. In hearing that last beep on the monitor, the world dimmed and went silent. How would everything be ok and ever be normal when a piece of my life is gone?
The car is silent on the ride home. Mom has become an emotionless statue, Dad hasn’t spoken or looked at any of us, and I’m looking out the window watching the world unravel… alone. All I do is stare at the never-ending clouds. Once home, the house feels hollow. Your toys are still on the living room carpet and the spilled milk has now gone sticky from this morning. And your tutu… covered in coughed blood representing the first crack to fall into this unforgettable nightmare.
Every memory of you, I see you wearing your silly glittery pink tutu moving and dancing like no one was there and that nothing mattered. Dancing and the sky were your favorite things in the world. You loved dancing to the song Hawaiian Rollercoaster Ride to the Sunset as Dad made dinner on the grill. Watching you showed me to be bold and live in the moment. When you were born, I was 13. I was in that awkward teenage stage where I was focused on boys, makeup, and friends and didn’t really focus on a new addition to our house. But as you began to talk and laugh, I fell in love with you. You gave me a title that I will never let go of being your big sister and I swore that I would protect your whole life…
I’m sorry for that broken promise that I couldn’t protect you from.
I couldn’t bear walking in my room knowing I would have to pass yours on the way. So I ran. I ran into our backyard that merges with the woods never looking back or having any idea of where I was going. I heard my dad scream for me to come back but I didn’t care, I needed to escape that house. I ran until my legs gave out and fell to my knees next to Willow Creek.
I closed my eyes to cancel out everything but in the darkness, I saw you. I kept opening and closing my eyes trying to shut you out because if I let myself feel, I wouldn’t be able to stop or gain back control. Since your diagnosis 2 years ago, I carried myself as being the strong, dependable, brave, and mature daughter not just for Mom and Dad, but mainly for you. I didn’t want you to see my weakness and be scared because you deserved to have a sister to look up to and have themselves together. But on the inside, I was a scared kid waiting and praying that I could switch places with you because you were too innocent and young to deserve this.
Knowing that I won’t see your cheesy and gummy smile, hear your obnoxious giggles, have your nighttime koala hugs, or see you carelessly dance made me lose it. I can’t hold it in, I snapped. The tears became an endless river and I began screaming to the sky where my voice echoed into clouds and was then swept away until my voice was lost. I went home a few hours later and slept on the couch avoiding that empty and unrecognizable hallway.
A week later was your funeral. All our family came to see you and say goodbye one last time. Seeing members that never came to visit, talk, or even try to exactly know you cry just made my blood boil. I wanted to be bitter and kick them out for their mask, but knowing you, you would want me to let it go and know that all will be okay. The past week had been gloomy and rainy but on your day, the weather was bright and perfect.
At the end of the ceremony, I asked to be left alone with you to say goodbye but I couldn’t bear to. How can I say goodbye to my best friend, little sister, my world? Standing there alone, I realized that I may have never gotten to see you grow up, fall in love, get married, and have kids. I was robbed of a lifetime with you but I can’t be selfish and let the pain take over instead I’m going to live for you. Just as I was about to leave I looked up, seeing a sunset. Seeing the colors of pink, yellow, and vibrant orange clash reminded me of you. From then on, I see you in the sunsets where you are dancing and painting the sky with your love and laughter to show the world.
So keep dancing Bri, dance…
Dance for me.
The Cardinal Post 