Trust And Hope

Chapter 1

Heyy!! So I've had this rattling around in my head for a while and I figured I should put it on paper.

"No one ever told me grief felt so much like fear." In the words of C. S. Lewis, that was how I felt for a long time. Fear of what, I suppose, wasn't really clear in my mind. But I know it was there.

It's been nearly three years since my sister died. Well, two years, six months, four weeks, and two days, to be exact. Yes, I've been keeping track. C. S. Lewis's words were the best thing I could find to describe my feelings.

The fear used to be constant. It followed me everywhere, in everything I did. My mom says I was scared of my own shadow for a while.

I can't count how many nights I've spent sleepless because of her death. The first few weeks after she died, I would wake up crying and my older sister, who sleeps next door to me, would run in, and we'd fall back asleep together after an hour or so. That was one of the worst times in my life, but at the same time, one of the best times, because of my sister.

I gazed down at the note in my hand. Eva's cursive, so pretty it could almost pass for calligraphy, was scrawled all over.

Things I Want To Teach Sadie

How to sing like Kristyn Getty, or at least like me, which isn't all that bad

How to love with everything you have, which is the only real way to love

How to be a girl...as soon as I find out myself

With Love, Eva Anne Cleveland

I watched it closely, trying to blink back tears. I hardly ever cry. It doesn't mean I'm not sad, but crying in front of people, to me, seems... I don't know, uncomfortable? Yeah, that's the word. Uncomfortable.

Eva died from osteosarcoma. It runs in our family. Well, the genetic disorder that produces the genes for the type of cancer does.

She'd been fighting for a while, I admit. It wasn't like her death was sudden. She'd gotten really bad around two and a half years ago. My parents talked with my sisters and me. It wasn't like we didn't see it coming. Not that the fact makes it any easier to get through.

It's scary, isn't it? When the person who gave you the most memories, suddenly becomes a memory. Maybe that's where the fear comes from. I'm not sure. 

But enough of those morbid details.

It was around January, I think. I was sitting on my bed, staring at the wall, for some unknown reason. Sometimes, one just has to stare at a wall. I'm not sure why. Sometimes I do strange things.

"Hey, Sadie?"

My head darted toward the noise, banging the back of my head against my wooden headboard.

"Ow!" I howled, rubbing the bump, already raised, where contact had been made. I cringed but watched my intruder intently. "Were you going to say something?"

"What- before you hit yourself?" My ten-year-old, younger sister Gabby asked, raising an eyebrow. Gabby thinks she's so funny. She's in that phase where she wants to be as snarky as Richelle, our fourteen-year-old sister, but doesn't have that much talent yet. She's also not in middle school yet. It's mostly just annoying.

I sighed. "Did you have something useful to say, or did you just come back here to make fun of me?"

Gabby blinked once. "What? Oh yeah. Dad wants you."

"Finally," I muttered, untangling myself, careful not to hit my head again. I gave Gabby a hard noogie and then dragged her into the living room with me.