I wore my black dress and grabbed an umbrella on my way out.
I drove in silence—
the sound sucked out of me by sadness.
My phone buzzed with condolences,
but they felt hollow, rehearsed.
The rain was comforting;
it felt like my brother was crying,
guiltily,
for leaving me.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t have to—
all the feeling I had left
was visible in my eyes.
When I got home, I found a box
with a note in that familiar handwriting.
Inside was my brother’s favorite chain
and a small card that said four words:
“I love you, sis.”
I finally cried.
