I was just 9 years old when I lost my elder brother, despite that, it was a painful experience for me because we were close. He's a friendly type and knows how to do everything I ask him to do for me. He draws for me, cooks, teaches me my home work and so on.
Even though, I was young then, I learnt a lot from him while he was still alive, both academically and socially. Myself and my second brother would follow him every where he was going except school. Being the only girl among two brothers made me dependent on them and he been the eldest made me rely on him more.
After his death, I feared to go any where closer to his room, or his personal belongings. I allowed fear to engulf and overwhelm me. I would cry and mourn him silently even after I went to the boarding school a year later. I was closer to him that we even got into trouble with our parent. I refused to associate with others, I would stay alone.
Years after, he became someone I wanted to be like, I loved his passion for arts. How he writes novels and literatures and draws and create a lot of things on his own. I knew I was not talented as he was but he became part of the reasons I joined art class and I never regret it.
I learnt to be dependent on myself later on, everyone cannot be there for me everytime, I learnt how to do some things on my own that I discover I am capable of doing a lot of things.
"When loved ones becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure" all the happy moments we shared might bring tears at times, but it will always be treasured as a valuable memories that will always remain in our heart. I see how far we have gone and builded love together.
I started accepting whatever life throws at me as fate. If I can lose a brother very dear to me, I guess I can face life with my heads raised up and greet my self welldone for how far I have gone, how I healed my wounded heart and face the future ahead of me.