Krabbe Cakes

Chapter 2

I always thought you would stay little forever.

       Sure, that makes me sound like I was your father or something, but I always thought my little sister would stay little. I never thought I would ever hear of you being on your period, having your first kiss or better yet getting your first boyfriend. Maybe it's the protective instinct of being an older brother or the refusal to acknowledge on my behalf that I would never be able to see any of it but I wasn't ready for you to grow up.

       And it was also my fault you had to grow up so fast. There's nothing like a dying older brother that ruins sibling's lives.

       Sure, even the non-dying ones try and make their younger siblings lives harder, but they do it on purpose. I wish I had that opportunity to mess with you, lil sis.

       I think you're the one I'm going to miss the most. Will I even miss anyone? Do the dead miss anything? Besides life I mean.

       I bet this is the ninth letter of mine you've read and I don't even know if you will read this far. Maybe it will be too hard for you, maybe you will keep all of the letters and not hand them out. I can only ask you now, when I'm dead I can't tell you then.

       But, enough about me.

       I want to bring up the time you got your first piano. I guess it was a keyboard and you were nine. Like every other kid, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Chopsticks were the first to wiggle into your repertoire. But, you weren't just every other kid, you were really good – not to brag. 

       We all thought that you would probably grow out of the piano and move onto boys or makeup or something. Mom and Dad made a bet on how long you would last (please don't tell them I told you or be mad at them).

       By the time you were 12 you were heavily involved in the theatre, part of the symphony and offering your services to any plays you could as live music. Producers weren't really lining up out the door to sign you up, but perhaps they would've in the future.

       So, I forced Mom and Dad to bring me to your solo concert, to break me out of the hospital and to sneak me into the back of the theatre hall. They weren't happy, but you were going to be as equally upset if no one in your family aside from Aunt Margot attended. It's always better to fly solo with someone at your side.

       You weren't as enthusiastic to see me there as I had hoped you would be. "What the hell?" I specifically recall being your first words when you came to see as at the end of the show.

       It didn't matter that I had just had my first of many bone marrow transplants even though I was doubled over in nausea and running a fever as high as could be. It was a wonder I didn't seize. I also didn't care that I had gone against every single advisory of my doctors, my parents, and even my nurse.

       But, what mattered was I was there. I realize you were there too, but sometimes we just need a reminder.

       And I want you to remember. I want you to remember how happy music made you before I took it away. I want you to remember the feeling to perform. I know you loved it.

       Sure, this comes across as sappy, but paper is made of trees and those are always a little sappy.

       ;)

~~~~

       I didn't stop walking till late in the night. At the time when the chill creeps into your bones and it's eerily silent aside from the lone cricket in an oddly soothing way.