Only the good die young
"You said you weren't afraid of anything, but I know that you're afraid of snails," I said, small hands folded calmly in my lap.
"No I'm not, I just think they're gross," said the little blond boy sitting next to me, tracing pictures and scribbling in the dirt with a blunt rock.
My cousin, Nick. He wasn't afraid of anything, or so he said. I thought he was wrong though. I thought he was afraid of snails. I constantly argued that he was afraid of them, but he never said he was. "I'm bored. Do you want to play something?"
He looked up at me from the dirt. "Okay. How about the Skeleton game?"
"Okay!" I said enthusiastically.
My little sister, who had been sitting on the ground in the dirt, looked at us, eyes sparkling. "Can I be the dinosaur again?"
"Yeah"
A little while ago we had made a game up of our own that we so affectionately named "The Skeleton Game." I was a princess, and Nick was a Skeleton who would try and capture me. Often the end bedroom in my grandmother's house served a a dungeon. Denise would be the dinosaur; the skeleton's sidekick, who would assist in the capture. My job was to try and hide from them. When I was captured I would try to escape. It was quite fun, and often lasted for at least an hour.
"So you guys have to go to the other side of the house now and in a few minutes come look for me," I said.
"C'mon, Denise," Nick said. Denise ran up ahead of him and he followed, turning to give me that sweet grin he always carried on his face. It was the kind of grin that is so big it reduces your eyes to cheerful slits. The kind that makes your whole face radiate with love and happiness.
The kind that only little children can truly make real.
I'll always remember that smile....

"Hey Adam!" I exclaimed. Adam was the newest member of the family, only four now, which made me ten. He looked a lot like his brother - blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled, fair skin and long eye lashes.
Denise walked in the house, gameboy in hand. Her once-blond hair had darkened to brown by now. She walked over to Nick, who had just come into the room, and started talking to him about how far she had gotten on the Pokemon game.
"Have you gone up against the Elite Force yet?" Nick replied enthusiatically.
"No, who are they?" They continued talking as they walked down the hall to the front bedroom where they could watch TV and play their video games at the same time. It was the same bedroom that had once served as a suitable dungeon when we were playing the Skeleton Game.
I just watched, down on my knees because I had just given Adam a hug. You'd think I'd get used to them walking away and playing video games; they did it every time the family got together.
But I hadn't. Not really. I missed playing with them. But I quickly turned my attention to Adam and smiled. I was the only one he had to play with. "So what do you want to do?"....

Silence filled the car as we drove up to Stanford hospital. What we had heard was that Nick was hit by a car. It was February 24th; I remember it clearly, and the sky was over cast. Droplets of rain fell like tears onto our windshield. I clutched papers in my hand and stared blankly out the window. The papers were spells. I wasn't Wiccan, but I was just interested in anything having to do with the occult. I wasn't going to try and become Wiccan either. It was simply an interest. Two of the spells I held closest were one to stop bleeding and one to get rid of physical pain. I hadn't ever tried them before, in fact I was just printing them out when the phone rang giving us the news. I had no idea what was going on, really; maybe I was in denial, but for some reason I just kept thinking 'how bad could it be? He'll get through it. He wouldn't die. He couldn't die.' After all, he was Nick, my cousin. He couldn't die. He was the one who wasn't afraid of anything.

It was the 25th now, the next morning. The night before I had cried myself to sleep. My eyes were puffy and I trudged around the house like my feet were attached to weights, but I tried not to think about it. Last night they told us that Nick didn't have much of a chance of living, and even if he did live, he would be brain damaged.
"Uh huh.... oh.... okay," my mom hung up the phone. "Denise, Jess, come here for a moment."
"Yeah, Mom?" I asked. Denise came up to stand beside me. I looked into the pain-stricken face of my mother, and as her eyes filled with tears I knew what she was going to tell us wasn't going to be good.
"Nick is brain-dead. Do you know what that means?"
We shook our heads.
"It means all the cells in his brain are gone. It means his brain doesn't work anymore. He's dead."
A dead weight dropped on me, and tears rapidly filled my eyes. This couldn't be happening. Blurry-eyed, I ran up the stairs, trying to fight down the scream that was trying to break from my throat. I ran into my room, slammed the door, and completely collapsed.
Eleven years old. He was eleven years old. Six weeks older than me. We were six weeks apart. We'd always been together and now he was gone, gone. Gratefully, I let the scream out of my mouth. I screamed and cried into my pillow and asked "WHY?! WHY HIM? HE WAS SO YOUNG.... HE WAS SO YOUNG."
The pain came fast. That jerking, burning pain that pulls at your mind, paws at your soul, and completely tears your heart to shreds. The kind that leaves an impression on you forever. The kind of pain that you can never, ever forget. When you feel that pain it seems like you could cry and scream forever.
I didn't understand. Who would understand? All I knew is that he was gone.
And I never even told him I loved him.

It's been almost 3 years since that happened, and like all things, you move on. But deep down, you know that you haven't really moved on. The wounds reopen and you cry silently into your pillow and wonder what it would be like if this never happened.
In that three years time I don't think I've ever really had a dream with Nick in it. I think it's because I've been afraid. Of what, I'm not even quite sure.
But last night I did have a dream. We were in a house, and me, my mom, and another woman (I'm not quite sure who it was) were kneeling beside the bed. Nick was lying there, as if alseep.
Then he opened his eyes. He sat up cheerfully. He started talking about something, and at the moment all I could do was stare.
Then I actually felt the hot tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. He was here, he was really speaking, and he was alive. It had been so long, so long.
But I woke up, and it was really only after I had eaten breakfast and gotten ready for school that I actually remembered the dream. I lay back in bed in the dark, school clothes on, and just thought about it for a while.
And once again, I felt the hot tears well up in my eyes and trail down my face. It had been the first time I cried over his death in a long time.

Memories hurt, and some you want to forget, but what if you really did forget? What would happen then?
No matter how painful memories get, I don't want to forget them, because, as the ever-knowledgable Momiji once said, "No matter how much those memories hurt, no matter how painful they are, I don't want to forget them. Because I know now that they are a part of me. They help me to be who I really am."
And so I'll remember, and I'll cry and I'll hurt, but I won't forget. I won't try to forget. I don't want the memories to leave me, because they've taught me things that nothing else could have taught me. Life goes on if you want it to, and I'll keep him with me, and I won't forget.
I won't forget that smile he could give. The smile that only little children could really make real. Because some how, he managed to keep that smile as he grew. Somehow he always managed to make his face radiate with love and happiness.
And somehow, it fit him.

5 did | Go fuck yourself