Charlie

There was something wrong with his heart. That was what Mom and Dad said. That was why he come home with us that first night, why Mom didn't come home. When Elise was born, she got to come home with us that day, but there wasn't anything wrong with her heart.

"Dad?" I asked.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Is Charlie going to be okay?"

Dad paused for a really long time before he pulled me in for a tight hug. "I hope so," was his response. "Why don't you help your sister get ready for bed and I'll come read you a bedtime story?" On a normal day, I would have said no. I was ten years old, practically a young lady, and young ladies don't need their dads to read them a bedtime story. That day wasn't a normal day.

"He doesn't look sick." It had been a week since he was born and he was finally home! We had a new baby brother that we could cuddle with, play with, and teach him everything he needed to know. I tried to explain to Elise that it's our job to protect him, keep him safe and teach him. She just wanted to touch his smooth face and his little tiny fingers. I tried to explain to her about germs but she didn't care. Elise was only three and a half. She's wasn't a young lady yet, not like me.

"He is doing much better Abby, that's why the doctor let him come home. He will still have to go back to the hospital often though to make sure he is still okay. We need to watch carefully and if he starts to act sick, or like something hurts you need to tell me right away. Okay, sweetheart?" Mom said.

"I understand Mom. I'm his big sister and a young lady, and it's my job to take care of him and keep him safe." I looked down at him and his small mouth cracked open like he was smiling, he held his tiny fingers out and wrapped them around one of my giant fingers as if he never wanted to let go. I wish he never had to. "I think he likes me Mom."

"I think he loves you." That put a big smile on my face as well. He was sick, but Mom and Dad and I were going to tend him back to health.

Mom and Dad said he needed something called a heart transplant. It was hard because he was so small, the doctors didn't have that many small hearts, so he had to be put on a list and wait. I didn't understand why the doctors had extra hearts or where they got them. Mom said they got them from babies like Charlie who don't make it, but Charlie was going to make it.

He had a small machine that Mom and Dad would hook him up to when he slept or when they leaving him in a bouncy chair for a while. It would beep whenever his heartbeat or breathing wasn't normal. That way they would know to go check on him and make sure everything was okay. If it beeped a lot within a couple of days Mom would take him to the doctor. Elise and I usually had to go with her and sit in big, hard chairs with nothing to do. I liked to watch the other people and listen to what they said. Some of them were there for check-ups, others had colds. One little girl had a broken arm and she was told they couldn't help her in this part of the hospital, she had to go to the emergency area. She looked really sad.

We took him to church with us once. Everyone oohed and ahhed at him and got too close. I had keep telling old ladies about germs, but no one listens to a ten-year-old. Mom decided it was best to keep him home after that, so her and Dad took turns taking Elise and I. They said it was important to not miss church if we didn't absolutely have to, or else we might miss a lesson that we need to hear.

That week we talked about how God tests us. He tests our faith by giving us trials and making things hard for us. That way he knows if we are good enough to come back and live with him. I felt like I was doing really good at staying faithful no matter what was thrown my way. I was definitely going to make it back to heaven. Elise might still need to learn some things.

Charlie was the happiest baby. Every time you looked at him he would crack that toothless smile reach for you. Anyone. He loved people, he loved making them smile too. He was content to sit and smile at nothing for hours and then would giggle when he saw someone come into his view. He liked to look at shiny things and put everything in his mouth. One time, Mom and Dad left us with a babysitter.

"Tanya, Elise said she's hungry."

"Okay, what would you guys like for a snack? Your mom said you already ate dinner so maybe we could have some ice cream?" Tanya was a nice girl. She had baby sat us before. She had dark skin and long black hair with large dark eyes that sparkled when she laughed.

"Ice cream sounds good. Will you spin me in the chair after our snack?" Tanya shook her head slightly with a small smile, making her curls ruffle.

"Sure kid, let me check on your brother, he hasn't made any noise for a while."

She checked in on him in the play pen and there it was, that toothless smile.

"Man, this is probably the most content child I have ever met."

"What does content mean?" I asked.

"Content means happy." Tanya answered. She grabbed three bowls down from the cupboard and started scooping ice cream into them.

"I want chocolate!" Elise shouted from her chair at the kitchen table.

Tanya laughed and poured chocolate syrup on her ice cream before putting it down in front of her and reminding her to use her spoon. "He's sick." I said. Tanya stopped laughing. She looked at me and her eyes sparkled in a different kind of way. "Your dad told me." She said, and she turned away so I wouldn't see her tears, but I did.

"Dad?" I asked when he came in to kiss me goodnight.

"What angel?"

"Why was Tanya sad that Charlie's sick? When I told her, she cried. She tried to hide it from me, but young ladies don't miss things like that."

Daddy sighed. "Tanya's nephew died from a tumor when he was two. He must remind her of ."

"That's so sad!...Daddy?" I hoped he didn't hear the fear in my voice.

"Yes?"

"Could that happen to Charlie?"

A pause, just like the night we came home without Charlie. He knew way back then. His head down like he just couldn't hold the weight of it anymore and he put a hand over his eyes. He let out a big sigh and opened his mouth like he was about to speak. Instead, he pulled me in for a tight hug and squeezed me like he was trying to make me deflate like an old balloon. "I hope not," he whispered. He stood up way too fast and retreated from the room before I could respond.

Hope. That was all I got from him. I hope nothing bad will happen. I hope he will be okay. What is hope? Is hope the same as faith? He didn't say anything to make me believe that Charlie would get a new heart. He didn't tell me the doctors had one to give him. He didn't tell me his heart was all better. Was I just supposed to pretend everything was going to be okay without knowing? I cried myself to sleep that night. The kind of crying where you keep quiet, but your throat gets sore and your eyes get puffy. The kind of crying that leaves you with a headache the next morning. A headache that was cured by that toothless smile.

One night, Mom came into my room and shook me awake. Mom was always really calm and knew what to do. She always took care of me. One time I fell off my bike and landed in a pile of sharp rocks and skidded across them. I was bleeding everywhere. I thought I was dying. Mom was calm and she held me while she cleaned me up. Once all the blood was gone, I realized there was just a few bad cuts, and I wasn't dying after all. She bandaged them up and kissed it better without even blinking an eye. She was tough, strong. My hero. She didn't look that way tonight.

"We've got to take Charlie to the hospital sweetie, you stay here with your sister. If she wakes up just tell her everything's okay and to go back to bed." She hurried through the words like she was trying to win a "who can talk the fastest contest". Her hair was sticking in several directions like she had rubbed a balloon on it. She had one tennis shoe on and one slipper and she still had her nightgown on over top of her hastily thrown on jeans. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but I was too scared. "I'll call Mrs. Nelson from across the street, she will be here soon. She has a key so she can let herself in, don't open the door for anybody until she gets here, okay?" I nodded to show I understood, I was only halfway done when she dashed out of the room again. I heard her and Daddy talking as they hurried out the door and it slammed shut. A moment later the garage door opened and shut, and I was all alone.

After they left, I snuck into Mommy and Daddy's room where Charlie slept. I crawled into their bed and stared at the , empty except for that little white machine, and cried. It's meant to be comforting to be in your parents bed. When you're a little kid and you're scared of a big giant cricket monster hiding under your bed Mommy will come rescue you, and take you to her bed where it's safe. There weren't any cricket monsters in there. There was a worse kind of monster that night though. It was something unseen, but it loomed over me and gripped me tighter than any cricket monster ever could. When I closed my eyes, I saw shadows and color dancing behind my eyelids and I didn't want to close my eyes anymore. I tried to remind myself that I was a young lady, and young ladies don't get scared. I stared at the clock until I heard them come home at 7:02 am.

There was something wrong with his heart. It had stopped, or it had gone too fast. It beat too slow, not normal. It flew out of his chest like a bird, desperate to break free. There was something wrong with his heart.

It was black with gold lining. Sure, it was glossy, and the light gleamed off the black as well as the gold, but it didn't seem right. He was so colorful. It was made up for by the red, pink, and yellow flowers hanging above and draping over the top of it. The inside was white linen, soft and clean. Like him. It was also tiny, I mean it was made to fit a six-month-old, but when you picture coffins you think of big bulky boxes, not something delicate and slender. I suppose it suited him well enough, despite the fact that it was black. The room was full of people. All kinds of people, old and young. Most of them I recognized, some I wasn't so sure. Tanya was there, my Sunday school teacher, our neighbors. We were supposed to be standing by the coffin greeting people as they came up to look at his tiny lifeless body, pale and cold. The line seemed to stretch all the way to China.

Elise waddled up to the coffin. She stretched her pudgy hands up and her fingers made smudges on the glossy black. She was too short to see him inside it without being lifted by a big person, but she knew he was in there. She kept asking why he was sleeping for such a long time. Mom and Dad said that he wasn't going to wake back up and I'm not so sure she understood, but she was sad. She missed him. We all did.

Everyone said nice things. "He was such a sweet boy." "He always made me smile." "I wish he was still with us." Everyone had loved him. He had had a certain effect on people. Everyone had stories of how he had magically made them feel better, or understand something about life or a problem they had. People said he was an angel sent from heaven to teach us how to love. He wasn't an angel, he was my brother.

"It's not fair! It's not fair!" I had screamed. "Why would God take him away from us?! He deserves better! We need him!" They had made a small memorial for him in the garden. Just a polished rock with his name and dates. It said Our beloved angel on it. I was kneeling on the ground in front of it, snot and tears running down my red face as I let out all my anger.

He had never done anything wrong, he was perfect. He was just a baby. "It's not fair." I whispered.

I noticed my dad on the back porch, he had been watching me quietly. Once he saw me notice him he began to come towards me. I hastily wiped the tears from my cheeks before he could get too close. He knelt down beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. He didn't say anything.

"Why would God do this Daddy?"

He let out a sigh and took his time. "Charlie...he was too good for this world. Do you know why God sends us down here to Earth?"

"Yeah, to give us a body and to test us." I said.

"Exactly. Charlie needed to be sent down here so that he could get a body and a family. Do you really think he needed to be tested though?"

I thought about it for a minute. Why did any of us need to be tested? He had been so small but seemed to know things. Like when he was smiling at the air Mom would say he's smiling at angels watching over him, and he could see them because he was still pure. Most babies can see them, she says.

"Some people are so good that they don't need to be tested. God gives them a short life so that they don't have to endure all the hard stuff that life offers. It sucks for those of us that love them, but we will see them again when we make it to heaven."

"Daddy?" I asked. "Why are you so calm and okay with this?" As I look up to him I notice a tear slip down his cheek.

"I've done my fair share of crying and screaming at this rock sweetie, but I know what I told you is the truth. I know that he's happier in heaven than he could ever be here on Earth, and that we will see him again. What is there to be sad about?"

He handed me a tissue and I wiped my nose. I realized he was right. I wasn't sad for Charlie. Bad things happen in this world, but they don't in Heaven. I was sad for me. I was sad because he helped me feel better when Robby bullied me at school and told me I wasn't good for anything, or when I did bad on a test. Isn't that the only reason people are sad at funerals though? For themselves? A few years ago, we went to a funeral of a lady in my ward. I remember wondering why I wasn't sad. There were so many people crying and I didn't want to cry at all, but I tried to cry because that's what you were supposed to do at funerals. I wasn't sad because I didn't know her, her dying didn't affect my life in any way, and it wasn't sad for her because now she didn't have to be hooked up to a breathing tube all the time.

Was it selfish for me to cry? Was Charlie happier? His heart didn't hurt anymore. That's a good thing.

What about me though? Don't I deserve to be sad that I've lost him? Why did I get left behind be tested and deal with this? Was I not as good as him? What about Elise? She was too young to really understand death, but it still hurt her. Why do we have to go through these horrible things? Who says Charlie was even perfect? He cried like a normal baby when his heart started to hurt or he was hungry. He slobbered on things and babbled like everyone else. Who decides who needs to be tested?

"We were very lucky to get to know Charlie and to have him as part of our family, even if it was for a short time." Dad added. How does losing someone I love make me lucky?

Elise didn't like the funeral. She cried and cried when they closed to box. She kept asking why we didn't take Charlie out? Why were they putting him in the ground? I held her and let her cry. I didn't know how to explain to her that he wasn't really in there, it was just his body. Mom and Dad didn't know how to explain it either. She wasn't being selfish, she was just too little to understand.

After that, she cried every night when they put her in bed and went to shut the door. She didn't want to be locked in a box like Charlie, she said. She didn't want them to bury her room and never let her out again. They left the door open when they put her in bed and sometimes that would help her calm down. Sometimes though she would keep whimpering and I would sneak into her room and crawl in bed with her. Then she would whimper herself to sleep knowing that she wasn't alone. Sometimes I did it even if she wasn't crying.

I went to church every Sunday. I really wanted to feel calm and happy like Mom and Dad. I to know for myself that we would see Charlie again and that what happened was for a good reason.

"Sister Hammon?" I asked one day after class.

"Yes Abby?"

"How do you know for sure if something is true?"

"Well you pray about it dear. God will give you an answer." Sister Hammon said.

"Does that always work? For sure? I mean I've always prayed my whole life but I don't think I've ever had Him talk back to me."

Sister Hammon laughed. "He doesn't actually talk to us. He gives us thoughts and feelings through the Spirit so that we can know his answer. Not all prayers need an answer, like blessing the food. Those prayers you probably won't feel anything after, but if you really want to know something and you ask with an open heart, he will answer you."

"Are you there, God?" I felt kind of silly talking out loud alone in my room, but I really wanted to make sure he heard me. "I guess I have a lot to ask you. I just don't understand why you had to take Charlie away. Dad says it's because he was good. Does that mean I'm bad? I try to be good, really. You know the other day when Robby punched my arm? I was nice and I just asked him to stop instead of hitting him back. I think that's what you would want me to do right? I guess what I really need to know is how do I be happy again?" I started to cry. Ever since Charlie had died I felt like I had a hole in my chest, I was just empty, I didn't really feel happy or sad. It was almost like I wasn't even there.

I sat real quiet, tears running down my face, trying to pay attention to my thoughts and feelings. I knew God was going to answer me because I wanted this more than anything. I needed it. I sat for a long time.

Mom and Dad started taking me to counseling. They're good at paying attention to things like that. My counselor Dawn told me all about the five stages of grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. She said I was just in the Depression stage and I would be fine soon. I just needed to focus on me and things I like to do.

She convinced me to volunteer at a daycare, she thought that might be good for me since I love little kids so much. I decided I am never going to have kids.

As the years went on I did start to feel normal again, just like my counselor said I would. I liked to sit by Charlie's rock and talk to him. Tell him about my day and what was happening in my life. Sometimes I felt like he was there listening. It made me think of how Mom said that babies can see all the angels that are usually around us. I wonder if I can believe in an afterlife without believing in God?