The Love of a Sister

That next week was one of the hardest of my life. Everywhere I looked, I saw Marcus. In the treehouse. In the grocery store in the chip aisle. Even looking at Sunny was hard. Why did Marcus have to die? Why couldn’t the doctors have helped him?

I spent a lot of time outside, thinking, crying, and praying. 

Mom and Dad were having a tough time. Their oldest, their only son, was gone and would never come back.

On Saturday, I put my Bible and an apple in my backpack and headed out the door, calling to Mom, “I’m going on a bike ride, I’ll be back soon.”

It was a bright and sunny summer day, and I knew exactly where I was headed: the little park on the other side of town where, with Marcus guiding me, I had become a Christian.

As I reached the park, I noticed that no one else was around. I was glad about that; I could just sit and think and be alone.

Walking towards the fishpond, I looked up to the sky. “Why, God? Why did you take my only brother? I need him, my parents need him! He was too young to die. He had his whole life ahead of him, and I know that he was going to do great things.”

Sitting on the edge of the fishpond, I opened up my Bible to the Psalms. Starting to read, I read Psalm 34:18: “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I thought about that. Did I still feel so sad and wish that Marcus was still here? Yes, absolutely. But  I also realized that God was with me, and He would never leave me or my family.

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