...

I sat somewhat awkwardly on the hard plastic chair. What kind of comfort were they trying to provide anyways? There was an open couch in the small room, but I couldn't bring myself to sit in it. Couches are for watching movies. You sit in couches with your best friend, laughing over absolutely nothing. Couches are comfortable, right now I wasn't. And I refused to sit on the couch.

I pulled my legs up under me, watching the different people in the room. I should know who they were. A friend of my mom's, a staff member, someone from church maybe? I glanced up as my father walked into the room, breaking the awkward silence. Do I want to see her? What kind of question was that? Yes, I want to go watch my sister, barely grasping life. I want to hear the whirring machines, announcing there isn't much time left. I kept a neutral face, hardly moving, hoping that would be enough of an answer.

I wasn't sure if I should be angry or thankful for the clock on the wall. The steady ticking told me that time wasn't speeding up, but at least it wasn't slowing down either. Are you still holding on, Mary? Another minute passed. Are you thinking of home? Do you know how near the end is? I sighed, resituating myself in the plastic cocoon. Silent conversations blew a somber tone into the room. "She won't make it through the night."

Of course, I knew that. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that thing called death. But then death seems to be the one concept that makes people truly care. Who knows where all these people were before, but now that there was a timeframe, everyone was interested. Maybe it's because no one really understands life in the first place, that they have to look at death for a reason. Yet I don't think all the intelligence in the universe could ever truly get it.

It's funny how much life someone so lifeless can have. Yet in just a second, it all disappears. Did I not have enough faith? Maybe I should have let myself feel something, anything. Everyone says it's okay to cry, that you don't have to pretend to be strong, but does anyone truly believe that? I may have just watched my family die with my sister, but I couldn't let that happen to me too. Someone has to stay strong. I guess that someone was me this time. I was okay with that.

I hated that I didn't know anyone at the funeral. I wonder how many of them Mary actually knew. How many of them were truly around for her when she needed someone to talk to? Who had been a shoulder for her when she needed to cry? I wanted to tell everyone to go home. To say that Mary didn't need them anymore. "She won!" I would yell, "Cancer lost yet another battle... she won..." I could shout it through tears, to anyone who would listen. My voice would trail off at the end... Would anyone listen?

But I remained silent.