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Dani -- Degan's Letter
Six weeks later
Itiptoedthrough the plush redwood forest at dusk, holding Trent’s hand. Laden with a backpack on his back, he let me go first. I hadn’t been back here since that time so long ago with Trent andDegan.
Where once there was a rough log to cross the stream, now someone had built a sturdy bridge arching over the gleamingwater.
“Can’t you just feel the good vibes?” I askedTrent.
He smiled at me and took a deep breath. “Yeah. He’s here, Ithink.”
Deganwasthere.
We hiked until we got to a clearing, and Trent unpacked the bag we brought—a blanket, candles, matches, Cocoa Puffs, milk, bowls, spoons, and napkins, along with a speaker for his phone. I spread out the blanket, then set the white votive candles in mason jars and lit them, creating a livelyglow.
Carefully, I poured out three servings of cold cereal. One for Trent. One for me. One forDegan.
I addedmilk.
“Cheers,” I said, and took a bite, the cold, chocolaty sugar hitting my tastebuds.
“Cheers,” repeated Trent, and clinked his bowl with mine. He leaned over to turn on the music. “You know he liked Miley,too.”
“Iknow.”
“Is it inappropriate to play ‘WreckingBall’?”
Shaking my head, my mouth full of Cocoa Puffs, I said, “It would be inappropriatenotto play “Wrecking Ball” at Degan’sfuneral.”
For the past six weeks, Trent had been living with me in my apartment. He’d changed classes, but was still studying Spanish. And getting better everyday.
We’d gone back home to honor my brother. When we got back to California, we went to dinner at Trent’s parents’ house. His mother held me as if she were my ownmother.
Trent emerged from his room holding a small box. “These are Degan’s things.” I held it reverently. We also made a trip to the small storage space I’d rented for so many years, pulling out photographs and memorabilia and selecting some to take back to Spain withus.
And we’d made a trip to Degan’s grave. I’d stayed there for hours, playing UNO with Trent and talking toDegan.
I think he would have likedit.
With the pop song winding its way around the trees, Trent and I now ate our cold cereal dinner in honor of my brother. Trent let out a laugh. “I was just thinking. Remember that time he changed all the abbreviations on your phone, so whenever you meant to text ‘okay’ it came up, ‘I lovemeatballs’?”
“Yes! What a brat. It took me ages to change all of them back. I’d go to text ‘Hey’ and it said ‘I do it Gangnam Style.’” I shook my head at thememory.
We ate and talked and let the light go low. We had flashlights to find our way back to the car, no problem. For now, once the music stopped, we listened to the noises of thewoods.
My brother was there with us. I knew it. I could feel him. His love. His voice. Hisspirit.
When it was almost too dark to read, I said, “It’s time to read the letter.” With shaking hands, I slid my finger down the edge and ripped itopen.
My dearest,darling sisterDani,
Just kidding.You’re totally adork.
Actually, no. I maybe didn’t tell you this as much as I should have, however, since you’re only reading this letter since I’m dead, I can say it with a straight face. Or, well, write it with a straight face. And mean it. You really are my dearest, darlingsister.
When mom was sick, you took care of me. You brought me Apple Jacks when I wanted Cocoa Puffs, waited until the tears started just to mess with me, then produced the Cocoa Puffs behind your back. I think that’s Big Sister 101. We’re not gonna talk about the time you made me wear makeup. Or adress.
But despite those shortcomings, you are the best, kindest, most amazing big sister I ever had. Of course, you’re the only, but you’re the best anyone could everhave.
