She always loved Christmas music. It didn’t matter what song it was, she always found a way to enjoy it. He never knew why she enjoyed the music so much. Maybe it was something about the upbeat rhythms and the emotions associated with the songs that instilled some sense of hope in her--some long-lost hope for a childhood that had passed her by already. Or maybe she just liked Christmas. He wished he would’ve found out. He wishes he could’ve been a better brother. It was ironic in a way, he was a better brother now than he had ever been. Death was a powerful motivator--a black plague across the world that took the things you never knew you loved the most.

That’s why he couldn’t stand this party. With the false cheery lights, flashing green and red and the all too cheerful music that contradicted the sacredness of this day. Only a year ago today his sister had died and yet the people around him had already seemed to have forgotten about that fact, washing away the grief with a happy face. Even his parents were in a state of forgetfulness, dancing along to the music as if they were stuck forever in the past--a blissful remembrance.

People dancing, talking, living and all he could think about was the now bittersweet Christmases of his childhood. A childhood where his sister was still alive. “Let it Snow” was playing, painting the picturesque memory of him and his sister rolling in one inch pure white snow. It was the first time they had seen snow. And they had played for hours in the cold frigid air, dreaming up fantasies and delving into the adventures they had dreamed up. It was a wonder they hadn’t gotten pneumonia. When they finally did come back in, cookies had greeted them fresh from the oven and his sister had danced in an explosion of pure joy. That was the first time he had seen his sister’s talent. He hadn’t thought about it then but when he was older and his sister had devoted herself to becoming a dancer, he thought back to that moment. Now the smell of cookies that wafted from his mother’s kitchen brought only a bittersweet ache in his heart that hurt more than he could imagine. So much potential destroyed by something as simple as a disease.

He could barely hold himself together as he walked through the crowd of people to the bathroom. He walked as a lifeless entity, invisible in a sea of movement. A sea of living.

He couldn’t fathom the feeling.

When he reached the bathroom, he had barely closed the door before he broke down sobbing. Every gasp for breath a reminder that she had taken her last breath a year ago. He felt like screaming. Taking out his anger on the world, on all the people at this absurd party, on the universe that had let his little sister die at twenty. A month before she was about to join a company for ballet. Her dream was at her fingertips only to be snatched away by the greedy hands of Death. It was all wrong--all a twisted game of chess.

The silence was what brought him out of his reverie. It was all at once in quick succession. First, the music had stopped. Then the talking had faded away as the people went to God-knows-where. Now, he was up from the position he had taken on the bathroom floor and was walking outside. There was no one in the living room. No one in the kitchen. It wasn’t until he got outside that he saw a crowd. And just on the inside of this massive crowd of living breathing human beings there was a dancer.

Suddenly, he was hit by that pang of bittersweet remembrance. Except this time it spread through his body slowly, gently, without the stabbing pain the nostalgia usually held. The way she danced as if she was floating, dancing on air, she looked just like his sister.

He could see her now. Leaping through the air, her light brown hair streaming through empty space. She had chased her dreams the same way she danced. Without hesitation and without fear of being messy. It was almost as if the dancer he watched now was her. And for a moment he could imagine that it was she was up there in front of everyone, getting lost in the music, washed away in the rhythm and the emotions of it all. It was the moment. It always held so much potential for her. The dancer continued in a heat of passion and he watched every moment. It was beautiful, wonderful. And he knew she would’ve liked it. Despite it all, he knew she would’ve loved it. He knew she would want him to live even though things could get messy, even though he could fall. He knew she would want him to get back up.

The dancer finally finished, buried deep in the applause of the crowd. His applause added to the others. Every clap, a secret homage to his sister. Every clap, a response that maybe he would try for his little sister again.

He continued to stare at the dancer long after the crowd had left and still stood there even as she turned around to face him. The dancer smiled--a bright smile. An understanding one. And, though she could never understand, for the first time in a while, he smiled too.

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