I was 16 when I first got the call. Middle of the day in my grade 11 Biology class the phone rings and when my teacher answers the phone her face drops. She comes over to me to deliver the news. My parents got in rear ended and thrown off the overpass. Right then and there I felt a loneliness. One that I’ve never felt before, like everything I had ever come to know and accept out of society was a lie. I collapsed, not knowing what else to do. I woke in the hospital, hoping it had all been a dream, but it wasn’t. That was 10 years ago. Every year me and my little sister go to our parent’s grave and place flowers. She was only 10 when she got the news. Playing at recess at school when she got called inside and she broke down. After that day it was hard for either of us to function. We were put into foster care, nearly separated many times but after hearing our stories parents refused to take only one of us but never both of us. I had to get a job; I worked at a local fast food joint and saved up money for 2 years until I could afford to rent an apartment. I dropped out of school and got a full time job working at a supermarket, my sister stayed in school. It was hard for her growing up so fast but I’m proud of what she has done. She’s in her second year of university and has a part time job. I mean it’s really tough living in a bad part of town and barely affording rent. We don’t have a TV or a computer but we make our own fun. My sister turns 21 in 2 months and I hope to do something special. Maybe we could go out to dinner for the first time in 2 years. Every year our parents took us to a nice day playing laser tag and a big dinner after… I just wish I could afford to do that for her… just one. Just to make her feel like she is important. After sitting here thinking back on our past my sister says something.
“So…. Brian… I have something to tell you” She said softly. “I…. I have cancer. The doctor gives me a year tops to live.”
I don’t know what to do. First my parents now her. Why does god insist on taking everyone away from me… I… How do you even respond to something like that? I just stare blankly, a tear in my eye.
“Brian… are you okay? Hello?”
How can this even happen? How can my little sister, the only glimmer of light in my lame excuse for a life, be dying? Who is in charge? Who decides who lives or dies? Why am I losing everything I have worked so hard to keep?
“I… I don’t know what to say… Samantha… tell me this isn’t true. You can’t be dying… it isn’t fair” I responded a tear rolling down my cheek. “What made you choose today to tell me?”
“Sorry Brian… I didn’t know when to tell you. You seemed so down already I didn’t think this could bring you down any further”
“Sam you are the only thing I have left in this world… What would I do without you? I would have no reason to do anything, no reason to cook, no reason to eat, no reason to get out of bed in the morning, nothing.”
8 months later she dies. My baby sister died at 11 of cancer. A non smoker, non drinker, healthy person got cancer and died at 21. So young, so innocent, so much potential. There was so much she could do with life, so much more then what she did. That day I took a long walk in the rainy streets, dimly lit by street light, trying to comprehend what just happened. For a while it was a constant battle of even getting out of bed. I had lost all motivation to do anything, my world had crashed. Everything I ever had in my life has been taken from me. My boss was the first to notice something was off and he decided to try and help. It felt nice to talk to someone and have someone notice and he suggested I go see a support group he said it was full of people who had stories just like mine and could relate better. I went to the meeting. It was not what I was expecting. It was a well lit room with bright colours and some snacks laid out. I arrived 10 minutes early and there was only one other person there. I decided to go talk to her and she said she was new too. She told me about how her husband passed and her kid died of a heart disease. I told her my story and we sat there and talked about our lives. About what we were going to do and she told me she just needs to move on. She needs to find someone who can help her get back on her feet. Then everyone else showed up. It was an hour long meeting and we all got to know each other and talk about our life and we all helped each other and it felt good knowing other people knew how you felt. At the same time however when it came around to my turn… I just broke down, nobody could do anything, and nobody knew what to say. I thought tell a group of people would help but it made me feel worse, like they were judging me. After all the things these people have been through and here I am. Crying like an idiot. I don’t know why but right there I hit a new low. I crashed through the floor of the depression meter and was plummeting into darkness. My life turned to dust I tried to find other things to help me deal with it, to help me cope. I experimented with drugs, I mean it seemed to work for others why couldn't it work for me? 3 years after my sister died I was rushed to the hospital. I had overdosed on morphine. The doctors couldn't save me, they could save my body but not my mind, my soul was black. My heart had been ripped from my chest and my brain switched off. That was the day I died. Not 10 years later when my body stopped working but on that very day was the day I died. 10 years later I lay dead in a casket. Nobody shows up to my funeral. Nobody is affected by my death; nobody notices I’m gone or cares. My work hires someone new the landlord rents my place out to someone else. Life goes on. I feel better this way, not leaving anyone behind because nobody has to mourn. I can’t drive anyone to my fate. Nobody will die twice because of what I did, no. This is the end, and I’m glad it ended this way.
“So…. Brian… I have something to tell you” She said softly. “I…. I have cancer. The doctor gives me a year tops to live.”
I don’t know what to do. First my parents now her. Why does god insist on taking everyone away from me… I… How do you even respond to something like that? I just stare blankly, a tear in my eye.
“Brian… are you okay? Hello?”
How can this even happen? How can my little sister, the only glimmer of light in my lame excuse for a life, be dying? Who is in charge? Who decides who lives or dies? Why am I losing everything I have worked so hard to keep?
“I… I don’t know what to say… Samantha… tell me this isn’t true. You can’t be dying… it isn’t fair” I responded a tear rolling down my cheek. “What made you choose today to tell me?”
“Sorry Brian… I didn’t know when to tell you. You seemed so down already I didn’t think this could bring you down any further”
“Sam you are the only thing I have left in this world… What would I do without you? I would have no reason to do anything, no reason to cook, no reason to eat, no reason to get out of bed in the morning, nothing.”
8 months later she dies. My baby sister died at 11 of cancer. A non smoker, non drinker, healthy person got cancer and died at 21. So young, so innocent, so much potential. There was so much she could do with life, so much more then what she did. That day I took a long walk in the rainy streets, dimly lit by street light, trying to comprehend what just happened. For a while it was a constant battle of even getting out of bed. I had lost all motivation to do anything, my world had crashed. Everything I ever had in my life has been taken from me. My boss was the first to notice something was off and he decided to try and help. It felt nice to talk to someone and have someone notice and he suggested I go see a support group he said it was full of people who had stories just like mine and could relate better. I went to the meeting. It was not what I was expecting. It was a well lit room with bright colours and some snacks laid out. I arrived 10 minutes early and there was only one other person there. I decided to go talk to her and she said she was new too. She told me about how her husband passed and her kid died of a heart disease. I told her my story and we sat there and talked about our lives. About what we were going to do and she told me she just needs to move on. She needs to find someone who can help her get back on her feet. Then everyone else showed up. It was an hour long meeting and we all got to know each other and talk about our life and we all helped each other and it felt good knowing other people knew how you felt. At the same time however when it came around to my turn… I just broke down, nobody could do anything, and nobody knew what to say. I thought tell a group of people would help but it made me feel worse, like they were judging me. After all the things these people have been through and here I am. Crying like an idiot. I don’t know why but right there I hit a new low. I crashed through the floor of the depression meter and was plummeting into darkness. My life turned to dust I tried to find other things to help me deal with it, to help me cope. I experimented with drugs, I mean it seemed to work for others why couldn't it work for me? 3 years after my sister died I was rushed to the hospital. I had overdosed on morphine. The doctors couldn't save me, they could save my body but not my mind, my soul was black. My heart had been ripped from my chest and my brain switched off. That was the day I died. Not 10 years later when my body stopped working but on that very day was the day I died. 10 years later I lay dead in a casket. Nobody shows up to my funeral. Nobody is affected by my death; nobody notices I’m gone or cares. My work hires someone new the landlord rents my place out to someone else. Life goes on. I feel better this way, not leaving anyone behind because nobody has to mourn. I can’t drive anyone to my fate. Nobody will die twice because of what I did, no. This is the end, and I’m glad it ended this way.