Cynthia Kadohata - Kira Kira

It made me sad that the girls from Lynn's class didn't show up for the funeral. All thirty-two Japanese in town showed up, including a new baby. In addition, Lynn's teacher from school attended. Silly, her mother, her uncle, and her brother also attended. So did Hank Garvin and his wife and kids. His wife wore a button on her lapel that said union, and I noticed Hank Garvin wore the inexpensive watch that was the best we could afford to give him for a thank-you. A couple of my mother's co-workers also showed up. One of them had a black eye. I'd heard that there had been union trouble at the factory, but I didn't know the details.

I couldn't pay much attention to what was going on because I was so nervous about my speech. I was supposed to go up after Lynn's teacher. I don't even remember what she said. When it was my turn, I noticed that my shoes squeaked as I walked up the aisle. The pulpit seemed to be about a thousand miles away. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. I wished the organ player would play music so nobody could hear my shoes.

Here is the speech I gave:

"My sister was my best friend. She was a genius. She helped me with my homework whenever I wanted. She was going to college and planned to live on the highest floor of a tall building, probably in Chicago. She was going to live in a house in California by the sea because she loved the sea, even though she never saw it. She was going to buy seven houses for my parents, if they wanted. She was going to be either a rocket scientist or a famous writer.

"She was going to be the best in the world and live at the top of everything, and she was going to bring her family with her. This was one of the themes of my sister's life."

My mother had told me to end with a special memory I had of my sister. But when I checked my index cards, I saw that I hadn't brought the cards on which I'd written my memory. Where had I left those cards? At home? In the car? I couldn't even recall what memory I'd planned to tell. I looked at everyone. Everyone looked at me. I cried out, "Thank you," and ran to my seat. As soon as I sat down, every single person turned to look at me. Then every single person except Silly turned forward as someone else went up to speak. Silly leaned toward me and smiled and whispered, "You were great."

Later, before they buried the urn, we were each supposed to throw a flower into the hole. Almost everybody chose red roses. Uncle chose a bright yellow daisy. I chose a cosmos because my uncle told me that a cosmos stands for "heart of a girl." My father's white rose missed the hole when he threw it. He'd chosen a rose because he thought that was the most royal flower and Lynn was his little empress, and he'd chosen white because it was angelic. The white rose had landed on a mound of dirt. For a moment nobody moved. My father seemed paralyzed. Then Uncle Katsuhisa stepped forward and gently picked up the rose and threw it into the right place. He laid a hand on my father's shoulder. My father began to cry. I'd never seen my father cry before. I hadn't seen him cry the entire time since Lynn had died. Crying made his whole body shake wildly, as if he were possessed. The shaking scared me. I thought in a way that he was possessed and that maybe from then on he always would be.

Everybody came to our house to eat. I just sat in the bedroom by myself My uncle opened the door and said, "You okay?"

I said, "I'm fine," and then I burst into tears. He let himself in and listened to me cry. I told him my horrible secret that I had told myself I would never tell anyone and that I had made Sammy promise never to tell. But now I started to blabber. "Uncle, sometimes while Lynn was sick, I got angry at her. Usually I hid it from her, but one time I got mad out loud. It was the middle of the night, and she asked me for a glass of milk. I got up and got her the milk, but when she tasted it, she said she didn't want it and dropped it on the floor. She got to acting like that when she didn't feel well. Then I brought her water and started to clean up the milk. But she said the water glass had soap on it, so she threw it on the floor, too. Then she said she wanted milk again, and I wouldn't get her any. She said she hated me, and I told her I hated her. I made her cry. Uncle, what's wrong with me?" I sobbed some more. "How come I said I hated her?" I tried to inhale, but the air didn't seem to go into my lungs. I struggled to breathe.

Uncle let me sob for a few minutes. Then he said, "Did anyone ever tell you that my first son died?"

I stopped crying for a moment. "Really? I didn't know you had another son."

"He was just a baby. You weren't even born yet, and neither was Lynn."

"Was that a baby from your first wife?"

"Oh, no, I was only married to her for a few months," he said. "This was Fumi's first baby. The baby was born very sick. Fumi or I sat with him every night. All he did night after night was cry, until the day he died. He was quiet that day."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Uncle."

"I know you are. That's not why I'm telling you. I just want you to know I understand. Lynnie didn't hate you. You didn't hate Lynnie. You were mad because she was so sick. There was one day when my son was so sick and in such pain, I thought I should just smother him with a pillow to take him out of his misery."

"But that's terrible!"

"Of course it is. I didn't do it. I would never do it. When someone is dying, you have crazy thoughts. Don't feel guilty, you're too young for that."

Then he told me that some Buddhists believe the spirit leaves the earth forty-nine days after the body dies. He said for the next forty-nine days I could stay busy by taking care of a box of Lynn's things he would help me make. He said this box would be Lynn's altar. He started to leave, but I called out, "Uncle Katsuhisa!"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Are you happy now? I don't mean today, I mean in general."

He paused, and I could see he was really thinking. He turned both of his ears inside out at the same time. Pop! Pop! "Yes, I would say that, all in all, today I'm a happy man. It's not always easy, but, yes, I am."

A week after the funeral I turned in my new essay at school. This is what I wrote:

[4] Here is a special memory about my sister, Lynn. One day in Iowa there was a strong wind, the kind of wind that seems to go up and down and back and forth. I could hardly see because my hair was blowing around my face. Some of the corn blew almost flat. Lynn and I climbed on a ladder to the top of the roof with two boxes of Kleenex. She said to take the Kleenex out one at the time and let the wind catch it. In a few minutes hundred of tissue sailed over the corn field. I held the hair out of my eyes to watch. The tissue looked like giant butterflies. Later we got in trouble, and our allowance was docked for the price of the Kleenex. We had to go and pick up every single piece. It was worth it to see the butterflies flying over the corn. Lynn could take a simple, every day object like a box of Kleenex and use it to prove how amazing the world is. She could prove in many different ways, with Kleenex or soap of grass. This is the main theme of my sister’s life.

We made LYNN's altar on her desk, facing the big magnolia, which kept its leaves all winter. Uncle made me a beautiful wooden box in which I placed her chewed-up pencil, a lock of her hair my mother had cut, her toenail clippings, and other really sacred items like that. He'd even inserted a piece of removable glass in the wood under which I could place a picture of Lynn. I started to make our daily rice instead of my mother, and I put a bowl of fresh rice out every day for Lynn. I also kept her favorite water glass full. Sometimes I gave her milk and treats. Other times I would have a feeling that she might want fresh air, so I would open the window over her desk.