Dear A,

You wanted a letter; a real letter. Here it is. Maybe this one will be the one you’ve been waiting for all your life, maybe it won’t.

The day it happened was like any other day. I was outside with my mother. I was sitting on the ground running my hands over the grass occasionally ripping some out. Mother was kneeling, a small distance from me planting small Lily’s into the cracked soil.

“You’ll see Iphy, this year I’m confident the flowers will live. You’ll see,” she said as she crushed pieces of ground in her hand. I nodded vaguely listening to her. The air was silent and the world seemed on mute. There was a gentle breeze floating past me, stirring my hair. Suddenly my sister burst out from the house. The door slammed shut behind her.

“Mom! Dad needs you. We made something. We want to show you,” she cried with excitement.

Mother rose from the grass and made her way to the house. She reached my sister took her hand, and together they made their way to the front steps. She turned to me and smiled.

The silence hit first. It came suddenly and powerful. The air condensed and a wave of warm oxygen hit me. I looked at my mother, her smile still there as the house behind her bust into flames. My mother did not move she simply separated. The smoke stung my eyes and I looked down. Immediately my gaze returned to the house, searching for them but they had disappeared into the smoke.

That was the last time I saw them. When the fire died out I walked around the house. I found my brother in the back yard. He was lying on his back, his limbs spread out around him in awkward angles; half his was face missing. Nothing was left of my father, mother and sister. The fire had engulfed them whole. It left my inside empty, and my heart too full to hold alone.

No, I must rephrase our mother, our sister, our brother and our father. Our family. I was 18 and you were 7. You were too young to understand. Too small to die. I found you in backyard under a tree. Your face was smeared with dirt, eyes wide and still a vibrant blue.

No one was sure what had caused the fire but I think it had been father. Mother knew he had been unhappy for years. She knew what she was involved with. She knew what she was walking back towards. She knew. She either thought she could save him or she wanted to die.

There you go Anabel. I can’t offer you more then this. I will not apologize for leaving you behind but I want you to know that there hasn’t been a night where I haven’t thought of you. I will not give reasons for why I did what I did because there are good reasons, bad reasons, and there are too many reasons. In the end they cloud, they break and they deceive. Reasons are too much and yet they are never, never enough. My lovely little sister, Anabel you get what you give, but also what you’re willing to take. I am sorry for not taking you but I had no choice. I made sure you got a good home and were taken care of before leaving you. One day we may meet and I look forward to seeing you. Please do not hate for I love you too much. You may not understand what I did and why I did it but until I find you all you need to know is that I will come back. For you.

Play. Jump. Skip. Dance. Sing. Breathe. Take these verbs and make them your own and live. Live. Live.

Anabel, this is not a letter; it’s a whole life. I hope you like it.

Love.