The Butterflies
It was dark and rainy when Eva finally woke up that dreaded Wednesday morning. She knew this day would come eventually, but she wasn’t prepared for just how hard it really was. She had watched the cancer consume her five year old sister, Lauren, for nearly two years. It had eaten its way through her tiny, worn-out body for long enough, and today was the day that Eva and her family would bury the little girl.
Eva heard the rain pounding like marbles on the aluminum siding of their two-story house and closed her eyes trying to remember the vibrant, active little girl that Lauren once was before the grim diagnosis two years ago. Eva had just turned 10 when Lauren was born, and she hovered and mothered the bald, chubby little baby like she was her own. Eva was determined to be the best big sister ever and to try and make up for the alcoholic father and the mother who enabled him. She taught Lauren how to ride a bike, how to throw a softball, and how to catch butterflies on her fingers. Lauren always loved those butterflies. Eva read to her, bathed her, cooked for her and did all the things that are usually reserved for mommies and daddies, but her parents defined the word “dysfunctional”. Eva and Lauren’s parents barely even noticed when the nosebleeds started. Thirteen-year-old Eva wanted to punch her mother square in the nose after her wailing and uncontrollable sobbing when the doctor gave the news; Lauren had leukemia.
Everything after the diagnosis seemed like a bad dream. Hospitals, blood transfusions, chemotherapy, overweight nurses patting Eva and her little sister on the backs and telling them what brave little girls they were. Brave??!! Had those idiot nurses lost their minds?! They weren’t brave at all! They were terrified. Eva tried her best to calm her little sister’s fears. They spent hours talking about how good the medicine was, how smart the doctors were, and how God wouldn’t separate them until they were both old and gray with great-grandchildren. Lauren believed everything her big sister told her. Eva was not only her sister but also her best friend and the one person she could always count on to be there. Their mother put on a good show, though; always sobbing and saying over and over again, “my poor baby. Mommy’s here, Baby. Everything’s gonna be alright.” Their father just buried himself even deeper in the never-ending bottle of Jim Beam.
The bone marrow transplant was supposed to work. It was the perfect way for Eva to help save her sister. The procedure was horribly painful, but Eva always promised Lauren that she would always be there for her and do anything she could to make sure Lauren would one day again be able to throw a softball and ride a bike with her sister and best friend.
Eva was holding her little sister’s small, frail hand when she drifted into that final sleep. She put her mouth to the ear of her sister’s bald little head and whispered one more time, “I love you, baby girl. I’ll see you in heaven one day, and we’ll finally be together forever and ever.” Their mother held the lifeless body of her youngest daughter and just rocked back and forth apologizing for all the mistakes she had made as a mother and vowing to do better if God would just bring her baby back. Their father walked out of the room and pulled a shiny silver flask from his coat pocket and took a big swig. He wandered outside in the cold, sat at a bench in front of St. Elizabeth’s Hospital and cried. Despite their obvious faults as parents, they really did love Lauren.
After re-living Lauren’s short five years in her mind, Eva staggered out of bed and shuffled quietly down the hall to the bathroom to prepare for what would surely be the worst day of her life. She felt like a zombie, going through the motions of her morning routine and putting on the black dress and tights bought especially for the occasion. She already knew she would never put this dress on again after today. She wanted to burn it, so she would never have to open her closet and see this ugly reminder of this dreadful day. Looking at herself in the full length mirror, watching the tears stream down her face and wondering how she would ever survive the rest of her life without her baby sister, she saw a movement behind her in the glass. At first she thought it must be her mother coming to check on her progress, so Eva whipped around and standing in her bedroom doorway was Lauren. She was no longer frail and thin or bald from the effects of the chemotherapy. In fact, she looked exactly as she did before she got sick only about two years older. Her blue eyes sparkled, and silky blonde curls framed her rosy full cheeks. Eva blinked hard a few times, thinking she must surely be losing her mind, but Lauren was still there smiling at her, her eyes full of love and life. “Don’t cry, Eva” she said, “I don’t hurt anymore and heaven has lots of animals and butterflies, lots and lots of butterflies. All different colors.” Eva smiled and wiped the tears from her face, thinking how happy Lauren, her precious baby sister, must be to be living in a place with lots of colorful butterflies. As quickly as Lauren appeared in her doorway, she was gone. Eva ran into the hall looking around feverishly for any trace of Lauren, but this time she would be gone for good.
That night, Eva dreamt of her sister and all those beautiful butterflies and knew that Lauren would always be with her in her dreams and on the wings of every butterfly that would land on her finger for the rest of her life.
