This is a rarity for me...a short story. It's my contribution to Short Story Month. I hope you all enjoy it.

I slowly stood up and started toward the podium, my feet feeling as if they were encased in concrete. Once finally there I surveyed the faces of those gathered and saw the same tears in their eyes that I was losing my battle against at that moment. Turning my attention to my right I saw the arrayed flowers surrounding the urn and photo, which caused me to nearly fall apart as the tears readily rolled down my cheeks.

It took a few moments, but eventually I regained enough control over my emotions to start, “I wish I could tell you my sister had led a full and happy life. I wish I could say that,” I paused to once again get my emotions under control.

“Jessica,” I began again, “Was not exactly what you’d call a happy child. The reasons for that are well known by most in this room, but suffice it to say that for the first fourteen years of life Jessica was my brother Steve. My little brother,” I reached up to wipe away the tears.

“I tried my best to protect Steven, just as any older brother would. It was not an easy task. He was a great kid whom I absolutely loved spending time with, but Stevie was always small and rather feminine in both his looks and mannerisms. Unfortunately, this made him the preferred target in school and sometimes at home as well,” my voice began to break as I finished the thought and I had to stop for a moment to collect my thoughts.

After wiping away more tears I continued, “Our father frequently made a point of denigrating him publicly for not being ‘a man’. And that was nothing compared to what Stevie had to endure at home. While things rarely became physical, I can’t in all honesty say that my younger sibling was never beaten for being the person he was. I regret not doing more…” again the tears brought me speaking to a halt.

I turned and looked again at Jessica’s picture, “I’m sorry sis, but I know I failed you so many times. I should’ve protected you from Dad and the idiots at school. If I had it to do over, I’d…” unable to complete the thought I again paused to attempt to stop the flow of tears.

“When Jessica finally came out to the family, it was a less than civil environment around the house to say the least. I thought Dad was hard on her before, but once she had announced to us that she wanted to be allowed to be Jessica he flipped I guess you’d say. Fact is I know that that one time I was able to protect her and if I hadn’t I’m afraid to think about what might’ve happened. After that, Dad pretty much left her alone. Of that, at least I’m grateful,” I finally returned my attention to the gathered mourners.

“While she wasn’t actually allowed to ‘be’ Jessica most of the time, at least the abuse more or less stopped at home. It wasn’t until after high school that my sister finally was able to be herself. She left home right after graduation without leaving anything other than a goodbye note. It actually took me months to track her down and when I did, I tried in vain to convince her to come back home. I know she had her reasons, but…” once again I paused to collect my thoughts.

“It wasn’t until our father died that she came back home. I missed her so much…” again the tears stopped me in my tracks until I got them back under control. “If anyone thinks everything was rosy after her return, you’ve missed the mark. Mom was still having a difficult time, having just lost her husband then seemingly losing her son. It took her a long time to realize that Steve was never really there and it had always been Jessica.”

“I think what bonded us together more than anything was our mutual love of music. I wish I had her talent, to be quite honest. I could sit and listen to her play for hours, moved to tears by the performance. I suppose it was only natural that she made music her business...” I turned to the funeral director signaling that he should start the recording I’d brought with me. “This is one of her own compositions. I thought it fitting that it be played here,” I stopped talking so everyone could listen to the music.

While Jess worked mostly in rock bands, her own writing was far different. What it could best be described as was New Age, a little like a mix of Will Ackerman and Michael Hedges with just a hint of Leo Kottke thrown in for good measure. The particular piece we listened to was called ‘American Lullaby’. It was a short little bluesy piece which drew the listener in through its sheer emotion and simplicity. Even if there had been anyone on hand who hadn’t been crying before, this would have pushed them over the edge.

It took me some time after the recording to be able to continue, which was probably just as well since it seemed I was not the only one having difficulty. Once I felt able to continue, I again approached the podium, “I know that most of you here had accepted my sister’s transition, but I also know there are a few who hadn’t. To those extended family members,” I stared directly at one of our aunts who had never been anything but derisive toward Jessica after she began her transition. “Your inability to accept that my sister was never meant to be anything other than just that, my sister, has cost you more than you know.”

I swept my gaze over the gathering and spied a few other relatives who had also been less than supportive, “You missed out on getting to know an absolutely beautiful person, both inside and out, who would go to the ends of the Earth to help anyone who asked.” Again I had to pause to compose myself before continuing, “Despite the fact that it was that very trait that caused us to be here today, I for one would not have wanted one thing to change about her.”

Once again I turned to look at the picture and wiped a few more tears away. “Sis, you touched so many lives with your generosity, your music, and your spirit. I’m lost without you.”

Returning my attention to the gathered mourners I said, “I find it hard to believe that someone could accept help from another person, then turn on them like that…how a person could be capable of doing that to another human being? Particularly one who had just helped them? I don’t think I’ll ever be able…” my tears finally got the better of me and I stepped away from the podium, returning to my seat. As I dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, that night replayed in my mind for the millionth time…

…“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” Jessica said as she gave me a hug.

“No,” I wept quietly as I watched it happen. The tears were flowing freely as they awaited the arrival of the coroner, who placed her in a body bag and loaded her body into his vehicle for transport to the morgue…

...I quietly muttered, “No…” as my very soul ached for my sister. How could I go on without her beautiful light shining on everything she touched? I pondered that thought for who knows how long.

When I finally was able to pull myself out of my grief induced introspection I noticed that most of the mourners had found their way to the door. A few that remained were gathered around my mother, trying to console her. A few others were gathered around Jessica’s picture, chatting about her. And one young lady whom I didn’t know was sat beside me, mirroring my grief in her eyes.

“You know, she loved you very much,” she finally said as she took my hand in hers. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I was Jess’s neighbor. She and I used to spend hours talking over coffee and most of the time what she wanted to talk about was you.”

She looked me squarely in the eyes and continued, “My name’s Alicia, but most folks call me Allie.”

I took in this young lady’s appearance and was instantly drawn in, “Hi Allie. I’m sure we must’ve met before, but I must admit that I don’t remember. More’s the pity.” I gave her a weak smile, trying to convey my thanks for her help in my hour of need.

“Let’s go get some coffee somewhere so I can tell you some things about your sister you may not know,” she said as she stood up while continuing to hold my hand.

There was something about her than told me I needed to spend some time with this young lady, so I slowly stood up and replied, “I’d like that.”