My sister is buried on the other side of the river, her secret playground. Wildflowers cluster her, grasses caress her, decorate her gravestone.

“Lily Dachelet, 1997.4.12–2009.12.05.”

Going along barefoot, my toes tremble when I feel the welcoming from coldness, but I don’t dare to make a single noise. Water washes off muds from my feet but not my sins. Rocks are sharp and uneven, I suffer the pain and feel magically relaxed. Waves flow on my legs and wet my jeans, winds blow off my hat, but I pay no attention. The other side seems so far away, she seems so far away. 

I turn and move to where I took off my shoes. Today is not the day, I won’t be able to reach her. 

Schoolwork and extracurriculars keep me busy. Or I can simply admit my heart is restless. I haven't slept more than five hours for two weeks, when I notice, sunshine becomes so bright that blind my eyes.

Five minutes before bell rings, I walk down the hallway aimlessly. “Luke, I want to talk to you.”

It’s Andrew. He has grown at least three inches since last time we spoke. The world didn’t wait for me when I isolated myself from everything. 

I remain silent but follow him to the garden, our old meeting place. 

“Luke, I have to apologize. I’m responsible for Lily’s death. I’m……sorry.”

“I’ll go to her today and ask if she wants to see you.”

Forest green spreads down the red brick wall, scorns have grown from the bare branches of the pine trees, they seem too vivid. Is she lonely?

I should be confident of the answer, but after the funeral, I realize I never know her. My sister was a coward, unquestionably, she didn’t only never fight back the bullies, but also ran away from us. She was quiet, too quiet that unnoticeable even for me. What did she like? Drawing? Painting?

I touch the gravestone with my trembling hands. It’s surprisingly……warm. I say I’m sorry for my hurtful ignorance, it caused you so much pain. Then I ask her about Andrew. 

It’s not right. If I want to compensate and try to become a good brother, I should scold the bully and never forgive. But I still ask, and I see her nods softly, even with a tiny smile on her face, just like every time she agreed with me when our mother asks about supper. 

Andrew kneels in front of the gravestone. I tell him to stand, that Lily won’t be happy if she sees it, but he won’t listen. From his black eyes, I see pain and shame and guilt inside that he will never do anything like that again. 

“I have no right to speak for her, but she has forgiven you.” As I say, the wind blows a note page into my hands. It’s a page from Lily’s old-fashioned notebook: “You can let go now.”