"I Love You" Story

An old story I wrote....

*~*~*~*

“I love you”

That was his last words.

Three words.

Eight letters.

Simple yet so complex.

His feelings was all he said to her. To the wife he had left behind. I watched him die. My own blood, just pass before my eyes.

I remember when he was five and I nine, he the little puppy and I the annoyed cat. He knocked over that expensive vase of mom’s and blamed me instead. Of course mom knew the truth but still, he made me mad which caused me in trouble as I punched him.

I remember when he was nine and I had just turned fourteen. On the day of my birthday he let out his pet snake as a prank. A girl found it while going to the bathroom. She freaked out as it was her favorite animal. I laughed as my brother was punished.

I remember just a couple of years ago, he fourteen and I eighteen. I was moving out. Off to college. Thinking my brother would be glad to finally have his annoying older sister out of the house which he could rule the trouble. But he cried, not letting go.

I remember when he finally turned eighteen and I already twenty-two. He had gotten mixed with the wrong crowd. He drugged and cut himself through the pain. The pain my parents did not see as they argued and eventually divorced. I had been dating; soon later would I only discover the cheating.

Now I’m twenty-nine as today is my birthday. He could have been twenty-four. I’m married, have a four year old son and a newborn daughter. My husband is at the hospital while I here at the town cemetery. Here I am standing in front of my younger sibling’s grave. His wife is at the hospital, had already given birth to his daughter today; the little girl he never knew.

The wife he had left behind: a woman who could not show her feelings to anyone and only within the past year had she opened up to him, the first being that she had opened up to in her life. She helped him with his problems as our parents moved far away and I always traveling due to my job. She helped him not cut himself. She helped him not feel pain. She helped him not drug himself. She helped in so many ways but instead of sending her flowers or setting up a cute date. He ends up in a car cash. His life cut short by an alcoholic.

I stand before his grave. The cold winter breeze send a chill down my spine. I’m wearing the so-called- scarf he made at Christmas for me, the socks he had sewn poorly together in sewing class, and the little plastic ring he had gag-gifted to me when I turned sixteen. I may look like a dork but who cares?