Dear Alex,

You were the most amazing person I’ve ever met. It’s been nine years since I heard your squealy laugh, or watched you smile and giggle the moment you heard Blue’s Clues come on TV. But you’re still deep in my heart, and in my thoughts.

I loved you from the moment I met you, and made up my six year old mind to protect you from everything- to keep you safe. You were my best friend, even though you rarely spoke aside from the occasional “I go”, but I knew you were always listening. During the toughest times in my life, I always knew I could make you laugh and giggle, and everything was a little less bleak.

I remember when you’d be laying on your mat on the floor and I wanted to surprise you, so I’d tiptoe down the stairs only to hear you explode with happy squeals. You always knew it was me, and I’d just giggle and kick the wall. You always saw much more than anyone gave you credit for, didn’t you? I regret a lot of what you saw and heard. I regret not being able to stop the fighting from Mom and Dad, or the stupid doctors talking about you like you were just a lump. I tried my best though, and I always tried to cover your ears whenever they said the “D” word.

You were only supposed to be with us for two years, according to the doctors- but, you had other plans. You graced us with your light for six whole years and, as I got older, the more I wanted to protect you. You meant so much to me, and I’m sorry I wasn’t always there. I had to take care of Mom, and we both know how she can be. I used to be so angry. So angry at myself because I couldn’t stop what I knew would eventually come. Like watching a friend get hit by a train in slow motion, but you can’t push them out of the way because your feet are stuck in dry concrete.

I remember when Mom stuck you in that awful hospice. I hated it! I couldn’t see you as often as I wanted, and it got to me. Remember when I sneaked in through the garden? I hated that you were alone a lot of the time as you got sicker. But, of course, I wasn’t in control of that.

I’ve come to terms with a lot of things, and I even finished the book I was reading when Mom called and told me you’d passed. It was that book about the time travelling cat I used to read you. I remember the last time I saw you. You were so tired, but I wanted so badly for you to stay awake so I could sing and play with you. I was only twelve, but I think I knew that I’d never see you again. I’d never be able to hug you, or breathe in the perfume of your hair, or hold you in my arms. I wish I would have been able to go to your funeral. I wish so badly that I could go back in time and be there. I was so angry, and I hated myself for such a long time. But seeing you at the wake was too much for my twelve year old self to handle, and I came down with an intense flu. I used to think that the gods hated me; they took you from me, and now I couldn’t even be present for you? I loved you so much, and I still do. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t help you more than I did. I wanted to wrap myself around you in hopes that no one could ever take you from me. But I know that’s not how it works and it would never had been fair to you.

I’m not angry anymore, but I always miss my sanctuary. I never got to tell you, but you were my best friend. You were my saving grace, turning all of my young anger and hatred toward my life into light and love. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for being my baby brother.

I still hate good-byes. So…

Later Gator,
Sissy, age 21