“I thought I could make it, I really thought I could make it.” I yelled, stomping my feet on the ground as the nurse walked up to me; her expression doleful. Just a second ago my sister was there alive, breathing. So how, how did it stop so suddenly. Only 3 months ago my sister and I lived together in a small apartment. I no longer talked to my parents, the last few times we talked we always got into a fight. My parents always preferred my sister. They were always proud of her with whatever she did, they always let her have her way. Basically, she was their “star child”. I was the mistake; ignored and forgotten.

I used to be jealous of my sister, silently judging her, believing it was all her fault my parents treated me this way. One day I decided to tell her how I felt. I still remember her response the way she looked at me with sympathetic eyes as she reassured me how I was loved. She was always kind to me and even when I was grounded she would climb into my room through the window just to visit me. When my sister was first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer three years ago, we were told it could be removed since it hadn’t spread yet. Not too long after she had gotten the tumor removed and was sent back home. After that three years went by. We lived together, both of us continuing our schooling.

Then suddenly one day all I remember is getting called to the office and told my sister is sick. They told me that I should go to see her because her cancer had returned. As I drove to the ER so many questions ran through my head. Wasn’t the tumor removed? Would she be fine, like last time? Is it painful? Then I did something I never thought I’d do, I texted my parents. I told them about how my sister had another cancerous tumor and that she is in the ER right now. They lived 30 minutes away. I put my mom on the phone as they jumped in the car. I arrived at the ER and was led to wait outside the room. The nurse opened the door and walked out. I got up hoping they would say, “Your sister is fine. It turns out the tumor was benign, my bad”; but as she walked up to me all hope died. I knew what had happened. She looked down at me, her eyes melancholy.

At last she opened her mouth, “Your sister, she-”

“No!” I shouted, “She’s fine, she has to be. Just today she was fine and happy and-” Then I realized something. For the past few days my sister barely ate, and once in a while she would wince in pain and then hide it with a smile. How could I have not noticed? She must have been in so much pain! Why didn’t she say anything to me? Tears streamed down my face as I pushed past the nurse and walked into the room. I stared down at my sister, the heart monitor screeching in the corner.

People say when someone dies they look peaceful, like they are resting; but that is a lie, she just looked dead. I stared down at her. Why couldn’t have been me, why her? She was kind and loved by everyone. Now that she was gone, everyone would miss her. It should have been me instead. No one would suffer that way because no one would care that I was gone. The doctor ushered me out of the room into the hall. I walked out and my parents ran up to me, tears streaming down their faces, they must have received the news.

“It should have been me”, I muttered, dazed.

“No, no, don’t say that ,” My parents replied in sync.

“But no one would miss me… she was your favorite wasn’t she,” I whispered between sobs.

“No,” my mom slowly said as if she was confused, “no, you’re right, we were terrible. Please forgive us, we will be better. We will become the parents we should have been from the beginning.” I looked at my parents, they were joking right? I mean They had to be. But no, that look was earnest, they meant it.

It has been three years since that day. My parents have kept their promise to be kinder and now we are a family, closely bonded together. Sister, thank you for everything you’ve done for me, you always wished for me to become closer to our parents. So thank you for always believing in us.