It started when I was almost too young to understand. I had been begging and pleading for so long. I wanted a little sister for so, so long. I didn't know you'd look how you did. I didn't ever imagine you having darker skin than me, I never thought you'd have such blue eyes, I never knew a baby could look so perfect. After all, I was at that age when babies kinda looked like aliens to me.
When I found out, when I learned that you would be with me, I had kicked my mom in the stomach. She was tickling me, I was pushing her away. And she gently informed me that you were in there. She hadn't wanted to tell me yet, because you were so tiny inside her still. But you made it all the way and I got to hold you in the hospital. Looking back, those are some of my favorite pictures of my childhood.
You came home and you were such a perfect baby. I though all babies screamed and got themselves all dirty and pulled on hair but you didn't. You never cried unless you had a good reason. You were almost never dirty. You looked at the world with your pretty blue eyes like everything was so beautiful. You were so cute and tiny and I planned and planned what we would do together when you were bigger.
I remember the day. I went to school, everything was so normal. I was in math when the message came. The teacher came to me and told me my grandma was picking me up early. I went to the office. I got in the car. Granda told me. She told me she wasn't supposed to tell me. My mom wanted to do it. But she told me anyways... that something had happened to you. We drove to the hospital just a few blocks away. We went in and all the way to the back and there was my mom in that harsh white room, crying. I had never seen her cry before and it scared me so bad. She cried and cried and finally she told me what happened. She told me that you were gone. I would never get to dress you up or teach you how to swim or show you how to make grilled cheese. You were dead. It hurt so bad that I shut myself off. I went to counseling but it never helped. I hate hospitals now, they're so white and painful.
In the church we all stood in a tiny room. All my family was there, most of them glaring at your dark skin. And so many people I'd never met before from the church showed up and stood behind us and prayed. I got to stand in front. I wanted to stand in front. I wanted to say goodbye. But I didn't know. I didn't know that how blue your little lips were would stain my memories like it did. I didn't realize that I would never be able to forget how still your little body was. Or how pink your dress was against the red satin. I didn't realize that I would have such a hard time remembering how you looked when you were alive after seeing you dead.
Even though it hurts, I have always loved you. And I always will, my perfect little sister.
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