Little Fiona

I knew death was inevitable. It will happen to me and everyone around me.

But I never expected my little sister to die before me.

At first, I thought it was a dream. I still think that I'm in a dream. One day, I'll wake up.

Little Fiona will be jumping on my bed, shouting for me to wake up and play with her.

One day, I'll be happy again.

The thing is, it didn't feel like losing someone. It felt numb. I wouldn't say painless, what with all those tears rolling down my cheeks. But it felt surreal. And I'll never forget this feeling. The feeling of grief and such sadness that maybe someday, I'll have to experience again.

Her room stands still in the particles of dust laid by the sunlight peering through the windows. White sheets were draped over everything. It was my only proof to myself that she was gone and this was real.

Every night, I strip the white sheets that covers her bed, and sleep on the white puffy mattress of hers. Believing that the next day, I will be with her.

I'm holding onto the strings of hope.

But they are fraying so quickly.

I still remember the funeral for her. The day we both wrote our wills together. Our wishes for our family and our friends. Except, she would be the only one dying soon. But, it's not true. She isn't dead. I won't believe it.

I will never believe it.