Death.
Everyone fears it while they are still alive.
Not only do they fear death, but the aftermath that comes after it happens.
The fear of losing those you love most, of never seeing, hearing, or feeling their presence again.
You see, I cheated my way out of that.
However, it was really complicated and tremendously difficult.
And it all started the day I was drafted into the war.
---
Kya was my 12 year-old sister. She could be awfully protective for a 12 year-old at some times, but when it came down to it, she was the most lovable little girl in the universe.
At least she was to me.
It was impossible for her to go a day into school without her getting into some kind of trouble.
One day, she got into a fight with some boys in her class because of something they had said about our mother.
All it took was one negative comment about her mother for her to get started up.
She started throwing curse words at the boys like crazy, and they didn't really like it.
They told her to back off, and she wouldn't, in fact, it made her even more angry, and she swung at one of them.
For these boys, it was the last straw. They all ganged up on her, and she ended up with a bloody nose, a broken arm, and a detention slip.
As for the boys? They told the administration that she was the one to hurt them first, and she got all of the blame.
I guess they assumed that she was still troubled after our mother's death when she was 5, so they sent a note home telling me that she needed to go to a therapist.
No, not that she needed to go to a therapist, but that if I didn't send her to a therapist, they would take her away from me.
And I wouldn't let some dumb rule take away my only hope to live.
Kya dreaded going to the therapist. She always complained about it.
"I'm not crazy," she said, "so why do I have to go there?"
I told her exactly what I was thinking.
"You see, people are sometimes crazy themselves, and they want to make others seem crazier than they are. Your principal is completely out of it, and that's why she wants you to seem crazy."
"Then why doesn't my principal go to the therapist?" she asked.
"I don't know, Kya, I really don't."
---
The year at therapy was soon over, and I decided that we needed to celebrate.
I got her a cake.
Which was unusual for the time, because we didn't eat cakes on birthdays because of my salary at work (which was really, really low due to inflation).
She gasped when she saw it.
"Piotr!" she screamed. "You really didn't have to get me anything. I just stopped going to that stupid guy."
"I felt like it was a time to celebrate," I said. "After all, you don't get something like this every day."
She hugged me.
I felt like the happiest person ever.
--
"Piotr!" Kya yelled. "Get over here!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"You got a letter," she replied. "It looks really important."
That letter would change everything.
"All men of 18 years and older are commissioned to join the war..."
As soon as I knew it, I was heading off towards war.
As I left our home, Kya was in tears, and so was I.
---
I made a friend at camp named Tomas, and we exchanged stories about our lives.
Tomas was already married and feared that if he died, his wife would never find out and be expecting him forever.
So we came up with a plan.
Both of us were to write a letter to our families, describing how much we loved them no matter what.
We both gave them to each other, stamped and all.
The catch was that if one of us died in battle, the other would have to send the first's letter.
Mine just so happened to be sent first.
