Twenty-Two: Dear Brother

Twenty-One

My first creative non-fiction piece I know is one dimensional. The teacher didn’t give us any instructions except to write about a cloud and death of a loved one and merge the two together. I don’t believe I did mine correctly, and if I did, it’s elementary. Does anyone have any advice to write a creative non-fiction piece?

Here it is btw. Please review because I need serious help!

I sat with my legs crossed beside my sister and brother listening to the pastor give his sermon about how short life was. My heart felt like somebody reached into my chest cavity and was squeezing it with their bare hands. Hot tears streamed down my face as we mourned the death of one of our own. I never imagined being here. I never imagined I had to say goodbye. I hardly knew you. We were born into the world outcast by nature like a solitaire cloud in the sky that nobody wants ruining their majestic hues of blue. We were both raised in the same hometown. We both had the same birth mother, yet different fathers. We both attended the same elementary school. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Every day, we both viewed the same sky yet we didn’t know each other at all.

Though we were grieving for you, we were not wanted here. Our name was plainly printed in the obituary as “half-siblings” but we were not wanted here. Like the solitaire cloud suddenly ruining the perfect blue sky’s purity, we were not wanted here.

“Everyone but immediate family please leave the church as the family wants time to be alone,” The preacher announced. One by one, everyone made their exit. The family you were adopted to stayed in the front of the church beside your casket. We stayed in the back and gazed at you, talking amongst ourselves. We wanted to say goodbye one last time too.

Sitting in the back of that church, we reflected on the very few memories we had of you. We remembered you coming over to my sisters house and reading her school notes and lecturing us over what boys really want, and the same day, you sang us a song. We all had the love of music in common. We all loved to write. However, due to the circumstances of your jealous adopted parents, we never got to make many memories. Your adopted family was afraid if you became too close to your biological siblings, you wouldn’t want to be with them anymore.

During the process of sharing our memories, the preacher walked over to our pew.

“I’m sorry but you’re going to have to leave. This is for immediate family only,”

Not knowing what to say back, my sister and I gave each other mutual hurt looks and left the Church. Our hearts now weren’t beating at all. “We are immediate family,” we thought. We were here to mourn, just like the rest of them. We were the cloud in the sky that day. We were the unwanted ones.

A somber feeling grows in our hearts every September now. Six years have passed, and time hasn’t healed any wounds. From your death, however, a new dawn approaches. There are five of us siblings left. We will not make the mistake of not having any memories.

Sorrow. Regret. Anguish. Closure.

We may be the unwanted cloud to your adopted parents, but their opinion wasn’t strong enough to keep the other brother they adopted away from us. We now have routine conversations and meetings. Best of all, we have memories to share. Through him, we have memories of you. Jodi, Brandon, Ronnie, LeAnna, Linda, and John. Though you are now gone, Brandon, the rest are closer now, and I think you would’ve wanted that. You are the sky that holds all us clouds together.

Sincerely
Katrina