My step brother was the apple of my eye. He was 17 years younger than I was and I loved him like my own. I had always thanked god for every single moment that I spent with him, for those times where the best times of my life. I had always wanted someone who could be mine and mine alone. And then he came. I was the first person to hold him outside the labor room. He slept for most of the time when he was a baby. I would keep looking at his face. He was a scrawny boy and he still is. Just a little taller than my knee, at four years his baby brother looks bigger than him. The one thing that had always worried me about him is that he was so pale. So thin; and had so many dark circles around his eyes.
I taught him a song one day. My rustic guitar skills and my tone less voice could never match together. So I taught him the song that I loved the most
Somewhere over the rainbow
There s a land I’ve heard of, once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true
Some day I wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me
Some where over the rainbow
Blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why, then oh why cant I?
If happy little blue birds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why cant I?
He would sing it like a lark. But the quality of his voice was so beautiful. His voice wavered with every word. There was an endearing stretch to the entire song. Hearing him sing is the most peaceful thing in the world. Standing over his grave today, I can still feel him sitting by my side, his hands on my knees, looking into my eye as I play the chords. The whole while he sings, his voice wavered, not his eyes. He will just look directly into my eyes with those liquid brown irises. My heart was torn out when he died due to a severe asthma attack. But when I stay beside his epitaph, that’s when my heart soothes the most. His epitaph reads what I think is befitting him the most
“At last, he flew over the rainbow”
In the end, I want to believe he did. He did go to the place beyond the rainbow. And I hope his dreams did come true. I know mine will.
I taught him a song one day. My rustic guitar skills and my tone less voice could never match together. So I taught him the song that I loved the most
Somewhere over the rainbow
There s a land I’ve heard of, once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true
Some day I wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where trouble melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me
Some where over the rainbow
Blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why, then oh why cant I?
If happy little blue birds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why cant I?
He would sing it like a lark. But the quality of his voice was so beautiful. His voice wavered with every word. There was an endearing stretch to the entire song. Hearing him sing is the most peaceful thing in the world. Standing over his grave today, I can still feel him sitting by my side, his hands on my knees, looking into my eye as I play the chords. The whole while he sings, his voice wavered, not his eyes. He will just look directly into my eyes with those liquid brown irises. My heart was torn out when he died due to a severe asthma attack. But when I stay beside his epitaph, that’s when my heart soothes the most. His epitaph reads what I think is befitting him the most
“At last, he flew over the rainbow”
In the end, I want to believe he did. He did go to the place beyond the rainbow. And I hope his dreams did come true. I know mine will.
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