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Here I am. Sitting in the old grave yard. The wind blows through my long, silky brown hair. It’s rather cold. I could feel the goosebumps on my arms. Only a battery powered lantern can help me see in the dark sky. The sun just set, and the moon is rising. The wind is blowing harder, getting colder. I could only stare at one stone. The only stone I come to see, every day. The guilt and the emotional toll is worse. It hurts. More pain than one can ever feel.

    I looked at the stone. My eyes could only fill with sadness. Tears dripped off my face. The concrete stone is just beginning to chip. It hasn’t even been that long. Only 8 years. I haven’t seen this person since I was 8. The emotional pain only grew.

Here lies

Kenny Berns

December 22, 1990 - July 20, 2006

RIP

It’s my fault he’s dead. He’s my older brother. My best friend in the world. He only took care of me. I make this year for me, very special, because I’m the same age he was when he died. My 16 year old brother. He had so much left to live for. A wedding. A future. He was a straight A student in school. He was popular, but very sweet.

“Jenny,” my mother called.

Just by the sound of her voice, she was sick of being here too. It hurts to hear.

    It hurts to hear the sadness in her voice. I don’t know anything that can make me cry even harder. The only thing I could do, was hold back my sobs. The painful sobs. I dug my hands through the dark green grass, and into the dark brown soil.

    I felt a soft blue blanket go over my shoulders, and a soft, warm hand on my back. My mother’s hand.

“Jenny my darling,” she said with her unjoyful voice, “We can’t be up here forever.”

“Just meet me at home mom. Please. We don’t live too far away. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I want to say goodbye to Kenny. It’s my fault he’s gone.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

She kissed my cheek ever so lightly, then walked off slowly.

I came here to do what I wanted to do. I reached over beside the lantern and grabbed my bouquet of red roses, white lilies, and blue violets. Those were Kenny’s favorite colors, and his favorite flowers. I placed them softly over the grave, then gave my fingers a kiss and pressed my old fingers to the cold stone.

“I miss you Kenny,” I said, “and I love you so much.”

I stood up, with my black converses digging into the soil. I kept the soft blanket around me, grabbed my lantern, and started heading down the trail.

It was a slow, painful walk with tears running down my cheek.

I put my head down as I walked, and I didn’t pay attention to where I was going. The next thing I know, my head smashes into something.

    I look up, with the fear in eyes. I see a boy. He couldn’t be any older than me. He had black hair, and grey eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

We heard voices to our right, and that freaked the boy out. He put his hand over my lips and pulled me behind a large gravestone and we crouched down.

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