I was twelve. Exactly twelve, it was the night of April 26. Andrew came in to tuck me in after Sadie fell asleep. He had always done that. Dad worked nights and Mom had died of some type of bone cancer three years ago. So it was Andrew’s job to put us girls to bed safely. That night he crept into my room and pulled my blankets up all the way to my chin and then folded them back so I could actually breathe; just the way I liked it.
“Baby girl,” he always called me that when he had something important to say. “Can I have a kiss?” I kissed him on the cheek and gave him a super huge hug. “You are going to keep Sadie safe right?”
“Duh. I’m not a meanie that would just leave her.” I had said in my innocent twelve year old voice.
“That’s good baby girl. And you’re going to stay safe?”
“Yeah.”
“Even when I can’t be around to help you?” I looked at him outrageously.
“Yeah. But Andrew you’re always gonna be around, right?”
“Yes baby girl, I’ll always be around.”
“Kay goodnight Andrew.”
“Night baby girl. I love you no matter what. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“I thought you only loved boys?” I was too young to really understand what that had meant; too young to know the pain he went through every day because people made fun of his sexual orientation. I didn’t even know what it had meant when he officially ‘came out’ of the closet. I still loved him, Sadie still loved him, and Daddy made a huge point of telling him that he still loved him. So for my world, nothing about him had changed.
“Shhh, don’t talk about that right now. I love you, and I love Sadie and I love Daddy and Mommy. Never let them blame themselves for anything that happens to me okay?”
“But you can’t love Mommy. She’s dead.”
“Even when people die you still have to love them. You have to remember how much you loved them while they were here.”
“Okay Andrew.”
“Night babe.”
“Night night. I love you big brother.”
“I love you too.” I could smell the stale scent of his cigarettes on his breath when he kissed my forehead and left my room.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of sirens going off outside. The coroner was there, to examine the body of my big brother. He had nearly cut his left hand off in a zigzag pattern and let himself bleed out in the basement. They found his note but they never told Sadie or me what it had said. We both knew what it meant for someone to die. We knew it was final, and there was no turning back. Mom had taught us that much. Apparently Andrew had told me everything he wanted me to know the night before.
I didn’t cry. Sadie did; but I didn’t. Crying makes things final. It forces you to let go of the person you are crying over. It allows you to forget about them. If you don’t cry, then you don’t have to know that they are dead. You can go on believing that that person that meant so much to you is just at a friend’s house. But, maybe he is just at a friend’s house. God can be a friend, although so can Lucifer. Andrew is probably with the latter. At church they always taught us that God hated gay people, and suicides were not welcome in God’s house. That was why we stopped going to church. That isn’t saying that we worship the devil, but as a family, we don’t really believe much about God anymore. But, whoever’s house he is at; I hope they love him there as much as we loved him here.
