Sister, when you cry I feel your tears running down my face...


Which sister?

There's in fact almost a dozen of you who've called me brother.

Some of you have worked harder than others, to prove it, perhaps?

I could tell volumes about you. The stories of how we met, or the stories of sitting long afternoons in the loft, painting, talking, just generally living one another in that way you do with people when you're young. Your beautiful hair, your smile always full of mischief, like you had something to say to me, your smell. I'll always remember your smell, to this day you could blindfold me in a room full of my friends and I'd find my way straight to you. So I built you a shield, gave you a way to find your way back to me (if you wanted), and sent you on your way. So much the better for you, so much the worse for me.

You? Part of your story lies told here already. Should I even mention you? You were always so much more powerful than me, and I was just happy to bask in your glow. Of course that was over 10 years ago now, you and I have that kind of history. I talked to you just the other day, it had been years and still it felt the same. It always has, and it always will, and I will always be here to listen for you. Too bad I tried to let you slip away so quietly, you deserved better.

Should I tell the story of you? You who so long eluded my near never ending efforts. I chased, you kept always a step ahead, you protected me from myself when I no longer could. I owe you for that and so much more. You saved me, at least you put a herculean effort into saving me. The title of savior should never be put onto one person so squarely but I tried to do it anyway, and more importantly I loved you for it. In many ways I bled you dry and I apologize for that, in many ways I tried to complete your life in a way that nobody else had so far and I don't apologize for that. I still think about you an awful lot and I hope you come back to me as whole as you sound.

None of you are the ones that I wanted this spot for. Don't misunderstand, I still love you all very much and you all still mean the world to me, even the ones of you that don't talk to me anymore, I decided a long time ago that someone not loving me didn't mean I had to not love them back. Life's too hard that way for me, but I digress. As I was saying I wanted this place for someone else entirely. Sort of the newest member of the guard, but no less important therefore.

You, that's right You. With a capital Y because you deserve nothing less. I wanted this for you because I feel that I really should say something to you before you walk away here to walk that much closer to there. I know you'll think this is sentimental, unnecessary, and possibly even inappropriate considering the circumstances. You keep telling me it's not goodbye and every time I get a chance to see you I know that it's true. I know that we're always going to be close, but I've known that before and I've been wrong before. I believe in you, it's me I'm uncertain of, but that's enough of all the darkness.

I'd rather talk about the time we met, or the time we reconnected more than half a decade later. I'd rather talk about watching movies in my office or gawking at noders' old high school yearbook photos. Let's walk through the gardens one last time together before you leave, or maybe go down by the river and feed ducks. These simple activities would be boring with almost anybody but you. I want to grab you, kiss you on the cheek and tell you that we'll have at least one more nearly endless conversation, one more full hug, one more unforgettable time together before you go, but those are things I can't guarantee. There are so many things that I would like to say and do that four years might not contain it easily much less the four weeks we have left before it becomes a near-logistical impossibility to see one another. I suppose in the end what I'd like to say is very simple. I love you sister, and I miss you already...

Sister when you laugh, my heart fills full up, keep me please....


Thanks for those bold words Dave

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.