House of Frank

by Kay Synclaire

“We are born from the earth, and in death, we become it. It’s not all that peculiar, love.”

Don’t scatter me in the wind to be forgotten. I want to be planted. I want to become something beautiful.

I step into the world where you once existed with an assurance that⁠—yes, you are gone, you are no longer here, but oh, how good life felt when you were. You once existed. And those moments with you still exist.

“Young. Old. We all experience life whether we’ve had lots of it or very little.”

“She was a major part of you. Letting go of her would mean letting go of a piece of yourself.”

Gardens. I believe I was born to love. It’s the only course that feels natural to me.”

“Marionette doesn’t need Julianna’s love. She just needs to know that she is loved. And I have much to give.”

“When I think about our place in the world and how infinitesimal yet large it is, it makes me feel . . . insignificant? But in a good way. This corner of the world is mine to impact and brighten up, even if it doesn’t reach the other parts of the world. And I think that’s beautiful.”

Own who you are and where you belong in this world. Because you do belong here. And you deserve to look like royalty every day. Because it’s all a gift, isn’t it, darling?” “What’s a gift?” “Life. Especially after seeing how fragile it can be. You’re broken for some time, yes. But then you pick yourself up again.”

“You pick out the fine linens, Saika. You pick out the extravagant fabric, and you wear them. You buy the expensive tea or the book you’ve always wanted. You eat the pie you’ve always wanted to bake, because after knowing how precious life is, those little moments start to feel quite damn big.”

“But that’s what a family does. We worry, but we worry together.”

It’s strange how grief works. I was content, walking these strange cobblestone streets, but then here you are. You lurk everywhere. You’re in my thoughts. You’re in my heart, so I cannot help but to find you everywhere.

You enjoyed dancing on the strings of our mother’s patience, and I loved the melody it played.

I’m not playing you like some game, Saika. I trust you with my pain. I trust you with my heart. It’s all I can give to you.”

“Well, I’m of no use to you.” “I don’t want to use you, Saika.” She presses closer to me on the swing. She holds my face in her hands and speaks calmly, slightly squishing my cheeks. “I want to love you and be with you. For as long as I can. For as much as I can. Do you understand that?”

I release a shuddering breath. “Fiona, what am I going to do without you? Who will I talk to about my life? I have no one.” “Then talk to me. Write me letters. Speak to me in your mind. You are my sister, and our souls will forever be intertwined. In this life and the next. Speak to me. I’ll hear you.”

You consume my thoughts. Your absence actively shapes and colors my world. My memories of you are folded into my actions. I think about you when I make breakfast in the morning. Or when I sit on the veranda to drink tea. Or when Hilde dresses me up or when I laugh with Evette and the cherubs. Sometimes imagining your voice or your face is like a dull ache, but other times, it encourages me to live with all that I am.