When Daddy died, I had to be strong. For my brother. He was only nine, and I was almost twelve. So I could handle it a lot better. Sure, it was a shock. He just suddenly got sick. It turned out heíd had cancer for a while, but they didnít find it until just before he died.
Sure, I cried some. Itís not like I didnít feel anything. But mostly I was worried about Albie. He didnít understand at all, and sometimes heíd cry, for hours, but sometimes heíd just get angry, like it wasnít fair and me and Mom were supposed to stop it. And Iíd try to explain, but he didnít want to hear it. He didnít want to hear about cancer, and how it sometimes just happened. He would explode and start to scream, like if he screamed hard enough it would bring Dad back.
And I couldnít do anything, except watch. Because he wouldnít ...