A letter to my little brother...

Dear Michael,

Today is March 31st 2012. It is the 15th anniversary since I held your little hand for the last time. 15 whole years. It feels like forever since you left us, but I can still remember that day, moment for moment like it was yesterday.

It was a Monday. It was Easter Monday to be exact. We were at Angelsea on a family holiday with Mum, Dad and Nan. We had been having the best Easter holiday ever, because for once, you weren't sick and was able to eat your Easter eggs on Easter for the first time. We had spent the weekend pretending your pram was a race car, going over all the speed bumps in the caravan park. We had been to the beach. We had sat together and you watched me colour in my favourite Barney colouring book. We got to share bunk beds together for the first time as well.

We woke up on the Monday, our last day of our holiday. You were feeling a little bit unwell. I remember Mum and Dad packing up our cabin as we sat with Nan on the couch. We all got into the car and we were on our way home. You were getting sicker and sicker as we went. I sat there holding your little hand, feeling sorry for you, as I was normally the one to get sick in the car on a long drive. You eventually fell asleep not long before we got home. When we got home, Mum and Dad unpacked the car. You were still getting sicker and sicker.

Mum decided to take you to the hospital to get you looked at. Your second home you could call it, you had spent nearly half your life there already. I stayed at home with Dad and Nan, thinking that you would either be home before dinner or you would have one of your sleepovers in the Children's Ward. I swear the nurses made you stay there for no reason sometimes because you would always make them laugh.

After a little while, I decided to go and play with the next door neighbor, as I was sure that you and Mum would be home when I got back. Not long after I had got there, there was a knock on the front door. It was Dad telling Laura's mum that he was going to the hospital, but to tell me that he would be home soon and that Nan would be there when I got home. I didn't stay for much longer after then, because I was starting to get a weird feeling.

I decided to go home at about 4. When I jumped over the garden that separated our house from Laura's house, I could see Josh, Ged, Pat, and Ben and our step aunty had just got to our house. They all had weird looks on there faces. Nan had come outside at that point too. I was so excited to see them, as they never really came to our house all that often anymore. Lois took me by the hand and sat me on our front steps. She then sat down next to me, with Nan behind me, and our cousins in front of me. It was then that Lois told me that you wouldn't be coming home with Mum like I thought, but instead you had gone to heaven.

I didn't know what to do or what to say. I just sat there, numb. I stood up and our cousins all came up and gave me a hug one by one. Not long after this, Dad's boss Pete, came to take me and Nan to see you at the hospital. When we got there, Dad was sitting outside waiting for us. I could tell by looking at him that he had been crying. He sat me up on the big brick wall to ask me if I knew what had happened. I just looked at him and nodded. He took my hand and we walked through the big sliding doors of the emergency room, where everyone waiting would look up to see who was coming in. We didn't sit down with everyone else this time. A young nurse came straight up to us with this sad, sympathetic look on her face, and asked us to follow her.

She took us through another big heavy door to a room where there were all these other little rooms coming off it. She took us to a little room on the left. There was Mum sitting next to you. You were laying on a bed with a big warm blanket on you. You looked like you were sleeping. Mum was holding your hand and patting your head, and she was crying. I didn't think you had really gone because of how much you looked like you were sleeping. I just stood there looking at you, trying to process everything. I remember taking very little, slow steps towards you, as if to not wake you up. I touched your hand and felt how cold you were. Why wasn't the blanket working? I couldn't figure out how you could be so cold. It was then that I realised my mum was holding your hands, she was trying to make them warm. She hated it when we were cold.

I lent over you and gave you a kiss on your forehead. It was then that I realised that you weren't going to wake up. You really had gone to heaven. But I still couldn't comprehend that you weren't going to come home with me. Never again would I hear you talking to yourself in your cot at 5AM. Never again would you knock on my bedroom door to come and sit with me and listen to your tapes. Never again would I be able to pinch the banana custard out of your bowl at dinner time. I would never see you smile again. I would never hear you sing twinkle twinkle again. You were gone.

It was then that everyone else came into the little room. The room was dark. The only light was behind you and mum. And it was so cold. It was as if you had taken all the warmth and light with you when you left. I can still picture you lying on that bed, sleeping. Your pale cold skin. Your soft dark hair. Your tiny little hands. Never would we have a Easter or Christmas together. We wouldn't be able to steal each others birthday presents again. In 4 weeks and 6 days you would be turning 20. You were robbed of your last birthday on this earth by a mere month.

I wish you were here today. There is so much I wish you could see. Your two beautiful nephews. You have loved them so much. Little things they do, remind me of you, which is nice. It's like a little part of you lives on in them. I still look at your pictures from time to time, wondering what you would look like now. Wondering how different our lives would be if that day had of happened differently. Everytime I walk past that brick wall at the hospital, I still see the sad look on Dad's face. They have completely changed the hospital since that day. The emergency room is in a new part of the hospital now, but the old one still sits there. It looks different now, but whenever I walk through those doors, it's like walking back in time. The small dark, cold room where I came to see you is still there too. That doesn't look any different, even after all of these years.

I have lots count of the amount of times I have cried today. Wanting you to be here. A man once said, time heals all wounds. This is not true. If it did, I would be fine every year when this date comes. Instead I try to convince myself that I will be, but end up falling apart at random intervals. 3PM is still very hard. I miss you more every year. But I know you are looking over me, and your nephews. I love you. Give Nan a big hug for me.

Love always,

Your big sister xxx