R.I.P Allie Caulfield

   I have a little brother named Allie. He died died of leukemia on July 18, 1946. He was only eleven years old, and I was thirteen. The night he died, was the worst night of my life! I broke all the windows in the garage that night, and I had to go to the hospital because I had a major anxiety attack. He was the sweetest kid you’d ever meet, and he was a red head. He loved to play baseball, and write poems on his left-handed baseball mitt. He was such a good kid, and he was so special to me. He was different then most kids his age, he was nice, and kind, and gentle, and he always had a certain way to do his own things. He always used green ink for anything. He wouldn’t use any other colour pen, but green ink. Green wasn’t even his favourite colour, purple was. Man, he was so special. I loved him so much. No one in my family has really been the same since the night he died, my mom especially. I hope she never has to go through anything like that ever again.
   I’ve been pretty different since he died… He was my best friend, and when I lost him. I had no one else to turn to.  I’ve become depressed, and just haven’t felt myself without Allie. I still talk to him, when there’s a problem or stress in my life, I talk to Allie, and I just imagine what he would be saying if he was here. It helps me more than anything.
   I know he’s in a better place. I’m at peace knowing that he didn’t have to go through this phony world, because it just gets phonier as we get older.