Before I Let Go

by Marieke Nijkamp

“Death is a thief,” Mr. Sarin says after a moment. His expression is filled with kind concern. “It slips into our lives and steals what we care about most. It breaks us, and even when we piece ourselves together again, the pain remains.

Silhouettes darken the windows of almost every single house. Everywhere I turn, everywhere, they stare. Yesterday I thought that Lost Creek looked like a collection of dollhouses; today I’ve found the dolls.

“My mind is a stranger to me,” she repeated, harsher this time. “I can’t control what it does. I know I can’t change that, but I can try to find a better way to live with it.”

“Think of your meteors. What if they aren’t all science? What if the burning lights we see are spirits, falling back to earth? What if they’re trying to return to their loved ones before they burn out? What if a falling star is a soul coming home, one last time?”

“It doesn’t have to be a happily ever after or happily always. Just a happily once. A happily sometimes. Hope. That’d make our pain worth it.”

“Stories remind me of heroes and possibilities. Stories remind me that I’m not the only one to deal with this. Stories make me feel less alone.”

Intent only takes us so far. It’s a shield people hide behind, but not a weapon.”

want people to care about me, not in spite of my illness and not because of it. Because of me, Cor. Just because of me.

How can I tell her that this is where we’re both meant to be, when only I can be here?

“We call them hero days,” Kyra said, “because that is when we fight fear itself. And we win.”