This story occured when I was 7 years old (I am now 21).
My brother, Jeremey, had just died of leukemia. He had been sick for nearly four years, and it was hard to watch him grow weaker, thinner, and paler as the days went on. He was such a horrid sight when he died, I was half-relieved to see him go.
My parents kissed me good night, gave their usual hugs, and left. I could hear them talking as they went down the stairs. After a few moments, I got up and turned on the lights. I was not sleepy, nor was I awake. I didn't know what I was. For a moment, I just felt so...blank. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I switched back off the lights and turned toward my bed. To my surprise, Jeremy was sitting on the bed. At first, I thought I had lost my mind, but it was unmistakably my late brother sitting on the bed. I crawled on the bed beside him, feeling warm and happy to have my brother beside me again, no matter how awful he looked.
I fell asleep rather quickly. When I woke up the next morning, the room was dark, and Jeremy was still beside me. I got up and switched on the lights and turned around. I was shocked! Jeremy was gone! I felt sadness and loneliness flush through me, but I relaxed and realized that Jermemy had been there to help me get over his death, or at least begin the process of doing so, and he had.
I am still sad at times by the loss of Jeremy, but I know that he is not gone. He will always be there.
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