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There are no freshly baked goods this morning. No new brew of coffee filling the air with it's scent. Today is a somber day. Today she sits on her bed, fingers fiddling over one another.

Today she is wearing all black.

The whole situation is unreal, and she sits staring at the door. In her heart of hearts there is silent hope, a plea. Maybe it's not true, maybe it's one big practical joke. Except that he wouldn't play a joke like this on her. Not at this time of the year. Not after last year.

Which left just one heartbreaking conclusion. He was gone. Well and truly gone. He wasn't going to come sweeping through the door to give his big sister a hug and let her know that everything was going to be alright. Not this time.

Not ever again.

She feels like she's someplace else, as she rises from the bed and moves across the floor to open the door. It hasn't sunk in yet, not really. It's too soon, too fast, he was too young. She wasn't ready to lose him. Best friends since the day he'd been born, life wouldn't be the same without him.

She didn't know how she was going to deliver the eulogy. Didn't know how she was going to raise two little boys that would never know the wonderful and amazing person their uncle was.

The door is closed behind her, fingers sliding along the bannister as she heads down the stairs. She casts a single glance back at the house as she opens the front door - as if looking for some sort of solace or respite that won't come.

Today is his funeral. Today she's forced to say goodbye to a baby brother she never thought she'd have to. Today she feels completely alone in the world without him. Today, she feels as empty and colorless as the black that she wears.
 
There was no smell of freshly brewed coffee nor wonderful smells coming from the kitchen as there usually were. Then she remembered. Thoughtfully, she brewed the coffee herself waited for it to finish dripping, poured herself a cup and then bustled out of the kitchen to see to some matters.

A few hours later, left in Tanyia’s room is a single solitary white rose resting in a slim clear crystal vase. Propped against it is a piece of paper folded over.


Tanyia,

I know how hard and how heartbreaking it is to lose a loved one. Several years ago I abruptly lost my mother. She was my touchstone. I miss her to this day. My pain tempered into an ache. Now, I can think of her without pain and just with love and smiles. The ache never goes away. But it does become bearable. Your children may never get to see your brother’s smile or hear his voice, but through you, they can get to know him and the type of person he was. Honor him. Speak of him often. Make him a living soul to them.

I don’t begin to understand Fate and why some people live a long time, others only a short one. There is a reasoning for it, even if we aren’t privy to it. And yes, good people die. We all do. Look to all the good things he brought with him, that you shared with him and less at what will never be. The latter is a thorough waste of time. We can’t change, in the cold harsh light of day, what is. Not with situations like this. We can only move forward. It’s what the living do.

I am deeply sorry for your loss, Tanyia. Today, you will do and say what you need to, because you love him and you will handle yourself admirably. Just remember, you are truly never alone. It just feels that way sometimes.

As Ever,

Cait~
 
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She couldn't sit still, after getting back. The rose and the note were noticed, appreciated. And then she was downstairs. Aside from kicking her shoes off, she hadn't managed to get out of the rest of the all-black she'd worn. Couldn't bear to. There are spots of flour on her black skirt, sugar crystals on the collar of her button-down shirt. There are bowls and pans and spatulas, mixing beaters and ingredients all strewn about.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, a timer goes off and she leaves a whisk in a bowl of cake batter so that she can slide her fingers into an oven mitt and pull the oven open. Unfrosted cupcakes are pulled out of the oven and left sitting on the top of the stove top while she slides another batch in.

There are already-baked cupcakes on any free counter space there is, yet unfrosted.

It looks like she's been busy. Mixing, whisking, stirring, beating, cooking, busying herself. Anything to keep her mind from focusing on what it inevitably draws back to. Cupcakes were his absolute favorite dessert in the world, and she recalls making them for him often, when they were both younger.

The house fills with the smell of the baking, permeating every single room. And the sound of her cursing, swift and sure, is heard as she absently turns on the mixer in a bowl of batter and it goes flying all over the kitchen and all over her.
 
She lay curled up under the covers for as long as she could stand it, cradling a cup of coffee she had fetched earlier. She also snagged up an unfrosted cupcake from the kitchen. Those were her favorite. She disliked frosting for the most part and there was the added fact she couldn't/shouldn't have it anyway.

However, she had some posts owed today and since tomorrow was filled with errands, she tossed back the covers and scampered off to the closet and pulled on some sweat pants, a warm sweater and found a pair of fuzzy socks. Her hair still flowed across her shoulders as she made her way to the study and turned on the computer.

Malik first, I think... now what is W gonna do next... she slowly, evilly grinned as she thought about it.
 
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