Remembering the Night

Why did we come here?

A chilling memory flashed in my head: my little sister standing at the rooftop’s edge. Her silhouette was outlined by the city lights below, with the night sky overarching the sprawling cityscape.

Was it to prove that we could captivate an audience together as singers?

My heart raced, and with every step up the stairwell to the roof, my feet trembled, haunted by the moment she fell.

Was it to show the world that we got what it takes?

In the solitude of the rooftop, I began to envision a grand stage we'd often imagined being on. To both of my sides, speakers materialized, hinting at the power they held within. Ahead, a thin curtain appeared in front of me, seemingly ready to unveil, to show a crowd of people.

We came here for one reason alone.

I paused, inhaling deeply, seeking solace in the rhythm of my own breath. As I exhaled, a soft blue luminescence now appeared to outline the stage. Gripping the rooftop’s railing, memories from that night swirled like shadows around me, making it harder to focus on the present.

Three years ago, the weight of that haunting memory had almost been too much for me to bear. Nearly every morning since she died, I'd imagine hearing her distant voice that would drift into my ears, her melodies intertwining seamlessly with the world. It was as if nature itself was trying to fill the void of our unfinished duet. But today, just for a few moments I will be unwavered and fill that void with my voice.

As the curtains were pushed away, a sea of spectators flooded the view, filling every conceivable space. With the strike of the piano's first chord echoing in my head, an enveloping resonance filled the stadium. The collective mood of the stage shifted seamlessly, from electrified anticipation to a profound, soulful stillness.

As I sang, my voice carried forth a tapestry of pain, love, hope, and undying promises we had. Each note painted a vivid memory; each lyric mirrored the bond we shared. The melody told stories of our shared youth, the sacred vows we kept, and the dreams that echoed our collective aspirations. With each verse, I was transported back to simpler times — to her infectious laughter, her playful dances in our living room, and the radiant glow in her eyes whenever we joined voices on stage.

Yet, those cherished moments — our shared dances, our dreams to become duet singers on a grand stage — were mere fabrications. Illusions of what could have been. Once we grew up, we never truly sang together. Nor have I even set aside moments just for her. In my pursuit of my own dreams, I inadvertently left her on the sidelines. And amidst the unrelenting comparisons that grew between us, she was enveloped in an unbearable silence.

"To think, if I'd been a better sister, I wouldn't be haunted by the void of your loneliness," I murmured into the breeze. "Had I been there for you, perhaps you'd still be here now.”

Tears traced paths on my cheeks. "I can't turn back time, but amidst these lights, can you hear the song we wrote together?"

Lifting my eyes upwards, I closed them briefly, murmuring soft prayers to the void above. My sister won't be able to hear my song, but as the chords of the song filled the air, a glow caught my attention. Bathed in light stood a familiar silhouette. My heart stumbled in its rhythm. There she was, my little sister, every bit as lively and pure as my last memory of her. She sat by the edge of the stage, pride and yearning shimmering in her eyes, untouched by the passage of time.

Drawn to her, I began to move to grab her, but a fierce gust intervened. It threw me off my feet, sending a jolt of reality as I collided with the cold rooftop. The vast sea of spectators, the majestic stage, and most painfully, my sister, all evaporated into the void. My eyes darted to the rooftop's edge, praying she'd reappear somewhere. However only the endless night stared back.

Time seemed to stretch, regret anchoring me to the spot, until the air was pierced by a melody from below. It was the song my sister and I created, sung with a voice eerily reminiscent of hers. Curiously, I leaned over the ledge, spotting a young girl, bearing a striking resemblance to my little sister, years younger, completely immersed in the music. Every note she sang resonated with the same fervor and emotion I had instilled in the song. An unexpected warmth, mingled with hope, enveloped me.

Drawn, my voice found its way, harmonizing effortlessly with the girl’s. The gaping absence of my little sister weighed on me, but for this moment, the space around — the rooftop, the streets beneath — transformed into an impromptu stage.

Sitting on the edge, the wind carried our duet farther into the night. The moment our song ended, a profound silence took its place. The girl who had sung with me was nowhere to be found, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with reflection. In the silence, clarity washed over me like the gentle caress of a forgotten memory. My sister had reached out to me the night she died not because she wanted me to rescue her, but because she wanted us to be together one last time before her descent.