"What Pictures Are In Your Mind?"

Cheering Me On
By: Author Unknown

I close my eyes as tight as they can go. The lights go off,
and my imagination switches on. Pictures flash through my
mind like an old film from the fifties. I remember driving
home by myself for the first time. Now, I look into the
future and imagine that I am walking across the stage to
receive my college diploma. The years pass, and I hear my
fiancée say "I do." I look further and listen to the gentle
gurgles coming from my baby's nursery. A smile discreetly
appears as memories past and thoughts of the future travel
through my soul. I journey to memories of my high school
graduation, and a tear suddenly trickles down my cheek. I
look into the bleachers packed with families and friends. I
see my parents wrapped in pride, and I look to their side
for Katie and Kevin's approval. But Katie, my older sister,
is not there.

My eyes abruptly open as I am snapped back into reality. I
remember being called out of Spanish class in tenth grade
and taken to the hospital to see Katie, who had cancer, for
the final time. It was an excruciating task, but I found the
good in Katie's tragic death. Katie's room is exactly the
way she left it on a Friday night in September, 1993, when
she was carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. Her James
Dean poster hangs on one wall; her elementary school track
ribbons and collection of porcelain masks hangs on the
others. Her bed is neatly made and lined with stuffed
animals -- typical of a girl who would visit her sloppier
friends and, without prompting, start vacuuming their rooms.
Katie died just a few weeks into her freshman year. At
eighteen she was 5'5'' tall and had straight shoulder length
blond hair, big blue eyes, and pale clear skin. Her senior
year in high school, Katie was the varsity cheerleader
captain and valedictorian. More importantly, though, she was
my best friend. After all, when she was six years old, she
had declared herself old enough to take care of her little
sister and brand new baby brother, because she thought our
mother was not sharing us enough with her. This caring
attitude continued throughout her life. Katie would always
braid my hair, go shopping with me, and let me go out with
her and her friends when I was lonely and bored. Katie would
always tutor Kevin, who has a learning disability, when he
needed help with his homework. She would continually drill
him on his studies until he got it right. Afterwards, she
would take him to go get ice cream as a reward.

Clearly, Katie was not just our older sister. She was also
our teacher, friend, and second mother. Katie always
surrounded herself with friends. She was constantly opening
her ears, heart, and arms to someone in need. The phone was
constantly ringing and her room was always crowded with
people in it. Now, my house is silent. I realize that
getting caught in a pool of depression only leads to
drowning. I live by looking for the positive in the worst
situations. I now have a relationship with my parents and
brother that means everything to me. I know what is
important in life, and it is not always partying and getting
A's. But most of all, I know that I can handle anything.

Life is not easy, but I overcame one of its toughest
obstacles. I believe, the hardest part of death is the
experiences it steals. Katie will not be clapping for me
when I finally get my college diploma or giving me advice on
my wedding day. My children will only hear stories of the
girlhood of their aunt, both stories of reality and an
imagined future.

I close my eyes as tight as they can go. A diploma is
placed in my hand. "I do" echoes from a distance. Katie says
she loves me and hugs me tight on a September afternoon in
1993. Just before I cross my high school auditorium stage, I
look out at the spectators in the bleachers, and I see
mother and father and Kevin. Katie is sitting right beside
them, cheering me on.

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