Only Everything

“Anne,” says my mother.  I was half hoping that I did not wake up, but if I had to maybe my little sister would wake me up.  I know that that will not happen.  I pull myself out of bed, just to make sure, I look back to the bed next to me, but the once pink blanket has been changed to a black one  and it on longer holds my little sister.  A flashback starts, I am there again on that fateful day.  I see my beautiful little sister.  She is too close to the road. I tried to tell her that she was too close, but I can’t talk, tears start to fall and then it is all gone and that was it.  I brush the tears away, get up, and walk towards the closet to throw open the doors.  There are her clothes and her favorite pink dress.  That little pink dress had been the one she had worn to the party and had spilled chocolate on.  She had dragged me into the bathroom and we had spent the whole time trying to clean it off, but that was 4 years ago I would do anything now to go back to that party, to just be with my little sister again.  She was so sweet.  I pick up the dress and push it to the back of the closet.  I grab a black sweatshirt, the closest pair of jeans, and a T-shirt before running to the bathroom.  There is no point without her. I remember the sight of her bath toys scattered about the room, the way they used to be.  I slide to the ground and cover my eyes.  It is too painful to be here when she is not and then I open my eyes and look in the mirror.  There I am, but a different me than I remember.  My eyes that were once green are now grey and bloodshot from crying.  My hair that had once been beautiful is now a tangled mess.  More tears come when I see the sign she made for me, those glittery words, good luck your day will great send stabbing pains through my heart.  I don’t let the tears fall.  For the last 3 years since the accident happened I just can not do anything.  I stumble, then gather my courage and leave to face the day.  There is no school today.  I still find it hard not to break down in front of my parents.  I have no choice, so I go down stairs.  My dad is at the kitchen table reading and frying eggs at the same time.  My mom is looking at her phone on the couch.  I slumped and sat down on the couch. I look up at her.  She doesn't look at me.  I love her, but sometimes it's hard.  It's always been so hard, I wish it would change.  Sometimes I think it may have something to do with the fact that my little sister died.  Other times I just agreed with myself, I know that if I break down in tears that our day will spiral off course.  Maybe there's no hope for me, our family used to be really close, but now we're all on our own path.  I just wish that everything would be the way it used to be.  I would have my little sister, everybody would be happy, but we're not.  It's always been dreary even if it's sunny and clear.  There's no point to go to the playground because my little sister used to love to play there.  There's no point to go anywhere except for here, our house, our dreary house.  No colors, but gray and black and white.  At least sometimes that's the way I see it on the dreary days.  Finally my mother looks up from her phone, but not to talk to me.  She looks up to talk to my dad.

“When do you think those eggs will be ready?” she asks.  

My voice opens ready to talk, “Hey Mom, do we have a plan for today?” I ask.  She doesn't answer.  There's an awkward silence until she responds.

“Well, we don’t really have a plan unless you have one.  Do you have a plan?” Her voice is condescending.  This is so awkward.  I can't even talk, it's like a nightmare of embarrassment.  I return to silence but my father fills the void.

“Hey, do you have a plan then?”  There's another awkward silence.  

“Do you want to go to the store today?  You said we would go clothes shopping sometime.”  I offer tentatively.  I really don't want to go anywhere, only to fill the silence and say something.  Mom doesn't answer and then she does.

“Maybe not today, honey.” After she says it, I almost wish she stayed quiet.  I don't think she has the right to call me honey.  I've never liked the word or the food either.  Mom turns her head, "Today might actually be a good day for me to go." I dreadfully do not want to go.  Please, don't make me.  I say in my mind over, and over, and over again and then tears come right down my face as I see my little sister.  She's not really there, but it's our picture on the wall that reminds me of her sweet smile.  I love my little sister the way I always did.  Tears fill my eyes and love fills my heart for that sweet little girl on the wall.  She used to be a real little girl, beautiful, small, sweet loving, and compassionate for everyone around her, but now she's gone.  I blame myself.  I should have cared more.  I should have done this or that better.  I should have spent more time with her.  I should have loved her more.  It’s not possible, but I wish I could be free from the sadness that has held me in its spell for so long.  All her things have been removed from this room.  They have been taken to a place where they will be used by another little girl.  My mother's voice calls back.

“Are we going to go, or not?” she asks, taking me by surprise.  “I thought you said you wanted too.” 

“I changed my mind,” I yell back.  I'm not in the mood to see the mural painted on the road.  The one that reminds people that something happened here.  Something bad that you don't want to happen to you or your little sister or your family or your mother or your father or your child whoever you know.  You don't want this to happen to you.  I never did and I'm definitely not in the mood to pass the cemetery.  The place filled with lost memories, and the tears, and sorrow, and broken dreams all in the past with no way to go back and retrieve them.  No way to say I love you again.  You can leave a bouquet, but it won't stop the bleeding of your heart.  I know that my little sister's up there watching me and helping me sometimes.  I can picture her playing 3 years ago, 3 long and hard years.  Her tiny heart spread such huge love to all those around her.  She gave them hope and inspired them to be grateful.  If I could go back I would, but the past is in the past and I can't change decisions I made.  The decision I make everyday.  The ones that affect everyone around me.  That's the end of my story.  The end of the memories,  The end of the days spent crying, face down in my pillow. The end of everything, because it is the end of my little sister Emma and it is the end of my family because they will never be the same again. Maybe one day we can try to be better.  I hope I’ll never take for granted what is never meant to be taken for granted again.  There is hope even through this consuming sadness, because one day we will learn to love again.