“Yup,” I say in between my laughter.
It was so worth it.
The sound of “Fix You” by Coldplay, my brother’s favorite band, plays through my earbuds to drown out the silence that fills my house these days.
It’s been five weeks since my brother, Emmett, was killed in a car accident in Philadelphia. He was on his way back to his apartment from the library to meet Dani, who had driven up there to surprise him for the weekend. However, he never made it back home.
The funeral is over. The people are gone that have been filling my house the past few weeks delivering food, giving their condolences, and keeping us company. It’s not death that’s hard; it’s what comes afterward, the silence, that is deafening. How am I supposed to move on from life without my brother?
I’m lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. It’s been a struggle to get out of bed lately. What’s the point? If I do have the strength to get out of bed, I’m in my best friend’s bed, grieving with her.
I close my eyes and allow the lyrics to consume the hole in my heart. Alone in my room, I don’t have to hide my pain and sadness. I don’t have to be strong for my parents, best friend, and others. I allow the tears to freely flow down my cheeks.
I have so many questions racing through my mind, but the biggest one that will never get answered is, “Why?” Why him? Why did my brother have to die at only eighteen? He had his whole life ahead of him.
I stood in front of the crowded church, my grip tight on the paper as I laid it flat against the stand. I blinked back the tears. I needed to get through this. Why did I tell my parents I would give the eulogy?
“Emmett Hanks was…” I paused at having referred to my brother in past tense. I wasn’t sure that was ever something I would get used to.
I began again. “Emmett Hanks was a son to two of the best parents anyone could ask for. He was a big brother, a boyfriend, and a best friend. Em was a strong athlete. I used to joke with him saying he was born with a lacrosse stick in his hand. When he loved, he loved with all his heart.”
I looked in Dani’s direction, but thankfully, she was looking down at her hands. I knew if my eyes connected with her and I saw how broken she was, I would lose it.
“It was something I admired so much about him. Emmett wasn’t just my big brother; he was my teacher, my hero, my protector. He fought off the boogeyman, kept away the monsters under the bed, and even chased away the boys he said weren’t ever good enough. He held my hand in the dark and walked with me by my side. I know he will do that still. I just won’t be able to see him.”
A twinkle of color caught my attention, and I stared above the crowd at the reflection of the sun shining through the stained-glass windows illuminating the church in bright, bold colors, just like my brother had in a room. His smile was infectious.
He was here.
A happy memory hit my brain, and I completely forgot about the rest of my speech.
“One summer…” A smile hit my lips as I remembered it clear as day. “We were out riding bikes with Zach and Dani, and there was this big hill in our neighborhood. I think we were maybe seven and eight. When I drove past the hill the other day, it was just a tiny bump in the road, but to a little kid, it was a mountain. The four of us just stared at the hill. Zach and Dani, both fearless, raced down the hill first. I held back—I was terrified. Emmett looked over at me.” I closed my eyes and could hear my brother’s voice in my head. “He said, ‘Be brave and fearless, Hails. I’m right here beside you.’”
How was I supposed to be brave and fearless without him here?
“I adjusted my helmet and began to pedal. As soon as we reached the bottom, he jumped off his bike and ran to hug me. ‘You did it. You’re so brave.’ He may have thought I was brave, but it was only because I had him there.”
I caught my breath and gave one last look around the church. “When you see a beautiful sunset, or the wind blows, or maybe you even hear a special song, know it’s my brother there, telling you to be brave. He is right there with us.”
I crumpled the paper and walked back to my seat, avoiding eye contact with everyone. I took my seat and closed my eyes while Zach took the podium and began to read the poem “The Dash.” Dani reached for my hand, and I held it tight.
I needed to be brave, today and the rest of my days.
Today, we are going to the apartment Emmett shared with Zach to pack up his things. My mom doesn’t feel up to doing this; most days she doesn’t feel up to doing anything. Kelly, Dani and Zach’s mom, is staying here with her while my dad, me, Dani, and her dad, Adam, go. We can each pick what we want to keep, and the rest will be boxed up and brought back here. One day, I will help my parents go through it.
How can we just pack up his life in boxes? How do I know what to keep and what not to? Something that meant the world to Em, which might under normal circumstances mean nothing to me, now means everything because it’s all I have left of him.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the music gets louder to try block out the memory of my last trip to Philly. It’s not the thought of the drive there that threatens to crush me, but what came after.
“We did everything we could.” Those five words will forever be instilled in my brain. The words that I will always associate with the night I lost my brother. The words I replay in my head over and over again.
That night, I had to say goodbye to my brother. A simple word: goodbye. I’ve said goodbye to my brother a million times before when I knew I would see him again. How am I to say goodbye this time, knowing I won’t?
My bedroom door opens, and my dad peeks his head in. I pull the earbuds out of my ears.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”
My dad is like me, red-rimmed eyes and pale skin. It’s as if the day he lost his son, the life was sucked straight out of him. I know that’s how I feel.