To Skin A Lamb

6

CHARITY

Today was the most dreadful time I would have here or at least that is how it felt at the time. My breath felt like it was stuck in my chest and it hurt. It felt like acid spread down my insides and it burned so bad.

I was well aware the only remedy would be to forfeit and potentially go home, but I wouldn't accept defeat on that level.

When Alex told me that I was assigned to the hospice unit, I wanted to hit the ground and holler like a little kid.

It was one thing to lift the spirits of old people, but dying children was going to be the death of me. It was close to home for me.

I will never forget the day that I was playing with my little siblings on the iced pond. I knew it was an awful idea, but 14 year old me thought it was an excellent idea.

How stupid was I.

My little brother Ethan fell through the ice at the age of two. He had only lived 748 days, he had only laughed for 106 weeks, he had only been with us for two years.

I understand that no time would ever be enough, but taking him at two was so unnecessary.

He fell through the ice in front of my eyes. I was so close to getting him. I ran on the ice not giving a single crap of whether I fell through the water myself, reason fled. I ran with everything in me while he drowned right in front of my very eyes.

The instant I arrived at the narrow hole that he fell through, the current took him. I didn't realize that my younger brother Justin was right behind me. He's younger than me by two years, but he is still so much bigger than me, even then when he was 12 years old. Bigger than me and stronger than me. And whether I wanted to admit it, he was a lot wiser than me because I started to thrust myself in the lake behind Ethan. Fortunately, Justin was right behind me, grabbing me and forcing me to stay on the surface. (12)

Our younger sisters, the twins, Frieda and Lively, sat on the grass, watching the scene unfold. Frieda looked like she was on the verge of tears while Lively was hollering and screaming for help.

They are only two years younger than Justin. 10 years old. Far too young to witness this. (13)

I was screaming and crying and kicking because that was my baby slipping through my fingers. I was so wrapped up in my grief that I didn't even realize that my 12 year old brother was crying just as hard as me.

When we got back to my house, my mother was still at work so we just called 911 and waited until she got home.

Finally, when my mother arrived, she saw the police and automatically knew it was something terrible.

She didn't even ask what happened because she knew it had to be bad based off of everyone's expression. Frieda and Lively cried themselves to sleep so Justin and I were her only children present.

My mama didn't even look at police officers, she just stared deeply into my eyes. "Which one?" She asked. Of course she knew that one of her children was dead. What mother wouldn't know?

"It's Ethan isn't it?" She questioned, causing the police officers to raise their brows in shock from the accuracy of her guess. But me and Justin just cried because what else was there to say.

I understand that this isn't the same thing, but a piece of me feels awful. Awful because I am jealous of these families who have the opportunity to say goodbye.

Of course Charity being Charity, I didn't even think to ask for help. I didn't even think to pull one of the interns over and beg to switch because at the end of the day, I was being privileged. I was so used to getting what I wanted that I didn't even see how others struggled.