The Blue Feather {COMPLETED}

Chapter 20

BISHARA

Gran, dead? It's not possible. She was alive and kicking just a few days ago. I sit on my bed with my back on the wall. I flip through my baby book that has many pictures of Grandma.

There's one of her holding me when I was just born. I still have all of the goo on my face. I see one of her pushing me on the swings when I was about two years old. I turn the page, and start to cry. My tears fall onto the pages of my baby book. I quickly wipe them off, so they don't wreck the pages.

In this picture, it shows me and Grandma in dresses at a church. It wasn't a regular day. No, this was on a Wednesday. We were at a funeral. Both of our dresses were black, and our eyes were red and puffy from crying.

I remember this day very clearly, even though I was only 3 years old at the time. It was one of the worst days of my life. Or, rather, the worst day of my mother's life.

On February 19, at 11:35 pm, my baby brother Daudi was born. He was born with a big tumor in his stomach. It had developed while he was in the womb. The doctors didn't think he would live for long, but Mom insisted that they do everything they could to save him. I remember all of the tests and surgeries, just to get him an extra day to live. By the time they got the tumor out, the cancer had spread to his liver and lungs.

It was a very stressful and hard time for my family. We were always at the hospital. Mom would never leave Daudi's side.

One day we were called into the room. It had been about a month since he was born. The doctors were there taking out tubes. The head doctor was sitting with Mom, who was softly crying, tears rolling down her red face.

"What-what's wrong?" Chitundu, who was six years old, asked.

"Honey," she wrapped her arm around him. "Daudi is dead." A new wave of tears came. When she got her breath back, Mom said, "The cancer spread too fast. There was nothing we could do." Looking back on it now, she was probably blaming herself for not doing more, even though we did all we could.

At Daudi's funeral, Mom made us wear black formal clothes. I didn't see what the problem would be if I wore my butterfly shirt with happy faces on it. I was sad, I just didn't get the concept of paying respect to my brother.

My mother was one of the first people to do a eulogy. Halfway through, she started choking on her words. Her eyes went red and tears started spilling out. This was a time of tears. I quietly got up, and hugged my mother. I didn't like seeing her cry all by herself up there.

After the funeral, we went down to the cemetery. The casket was laid down, and one by one family and friends set roses onto it. Chitundu and I put one on. I remember the thorns pricked me, so I let Chitundu set it down.

Thinking back to that time, I almost wish I was there now. I was young, and didn't have a care in the world. Other than my little brother dying, of course. Gran was alive and well, and she was my best friend. Now, I don't have that role model in my life anymore. I don't have someone that I can spill out all my problems onto.

I look at my baby book. I trace my finger around Grandma's oval shaped face. We will get through this trying time, I know we will. We always have. It'll just take some time.

Hey everyone! If you still read this thank you so much! Don't forget to vote and/or comment.

Just a heads up that updates will be slower than usual for a bit. I am getting ready for exams and I have a lot on my plate right now. I may also do some editing, so if you see *edited* on any of the chapters then you know they have been edited (confusing, I know :P).

As well, I am going to be entering a contest soon, so look out for a new book! Sorry for the inconvenience.

Thanks!