Blue Skies

From the very start, we’ve been locked in a wild, relentless rivalry. No surrender, no tears, just pure, glorious chaos. We’ve pushed, shoved, bitten, scratched—if it’s trouble, we’ve tried it. We crash into each other, fully charged, never holding back. Most people don’t get it, but that’s the sibling code. And for us, it’s double trouble—we’re twins. This is simply how we’ve always been.

***

Throughout our lives, we have always competed. I said my first word before her and was the first to get in trouble. She started dating first, but I married before her—and she followed soon after. I started college first, though she finished before me: she took two years, I took six. I had my first child and a career before her, earned more money than she could imagine, and even bought a house and car before she did. That’s just us as siblings. We tease, compete, and stick out our tongues at each other. That’s what we do.

***

There was one big thing she could beat me at. She got sick. Really sick. Cancer. We didn’t know, and she didn’t care to tell us until it was too late. It felt like my stomach was doing back flips. There was no way this was happening. I don’t know why she didn’t tell me. We tell each other everything. I had to find out from her husband, Matt. Over the phone. What a cruel way to tell someone their sister is dying. I would’ve made her try harder. If I knew, I would’ve poured everything I had just so she would be okay. Apparently, she tried chemo already, but it wasn’t working. Wasn’t working? I couldn’t believe she was giving up so easily. There are other ways. Surgeries. Possibly some experimental medicine. Anything.

***

I was angry when I first got to the hospital. Angry with her. Angry with Matt. I entered her room at the hospital, flowers and balloons in hand. I was going to lecture her, but it all melted away. She was so fragile, so small as she lay in bed. I could tell life was leaving her. ​

“Hey, Millie.”

She turned to me, her eyes barely open.

"Dax."

She coughed, "I need you to do something for me." She pulled out a key that felt heavier than metal, as if it could unlock more than just a box. "I have a box for you at my place. Ask Matt for the keys."

I held the small locket in my hand and looked up to her. Her breathing was slow and small. She was leaving me, I knew that. I felt helpless. What could I possibly do for her now? She was already in the final stage. The cancer was consuming everything she had left. Including the fight in her.

​

***

I entered her apartment. A light flickered as if to welcome me. The box stood across me, silently on the kitchen counter. I opened it and found pictures. Family pictures. Pictures of our childhood. Pictures of her family. I dipped my hand into the box and filtered through the pictures. That’s when I found a note addressed to me.

​

Dax,

If you're reading this, it’s time for me to go home. See Mom again. Maybe even dad. You’ve beaten me. What a worthless phrase. Do you have pride in yourself? Wipe that smirk from your face. Where did pride ever get anyone? Especially us? Pride is what got us here. I could play this game with you. Say I’ve beaten you, but I can’t. I can’t anymore. I could name a thousand successes that would trump yours. It wouldn’t be because they were grand, but little in comparison to you. This whole contest we’ve decided to do the majority of our lives has to end, and it’s not just because I’m dying. All of my life, I didn’t think I was ever good enough, that I would always be second place to you. I learned a long time ago. None of that stuff mattered. It’s torn our relationship, our friendship apart. I don’t blame you; it was the enemy who was spreading those ideas, those lies into our heads. God has taught me I don’t need to be in first place to be loved by him. I don’t need to be perfect. I can just be me. And so can you. He loves me. He loves you, too. He loves everyone. Be humbled before him, and he will show you great things.

Love your sister, your better half.

I don’t know why, but I cried for a long time.

"God, please heal her. Don’t let her suffer from this terrible disease anymore."

​

***

She died the next day. I couldn’t stop crying for days. I realized I'd never actually liked my life. I guess it was just all for show. I don’t know what I was trying to prove. My wife uses me for my successes, constantly spending like money grows on trees. My kids are pushy and selfish. They whine and get what they want. I’ve raised spoiled brats. Work is draining, and I forget why I chose to be a lawyer. Money didn’t give me satisfaction, no matter how many zeros there were. I had done it. I had worked all my life for this moment, but all of it seemed pointless now. I had won this game we call life, but unfortunately, it took my sister’s death to realize life isn’t a game. It’s a fragile net of time. It can be taken as quickly as it is given.

​

***

For years, I read through her Bible. The notes she placed among the words. Every piece of her is in that little book. Her ideas, her thoughts and testimonies. I close the book, its pages worn from love. I prayed my last prayer and drew my last breath. I opened my eyes to warmth and sunshine. I saw Millie waiting for me, her arms open wide. Her smile shined through the endless blue skies.