It was that day again.
It's hard to believe it happened five years ago.
Not many people knew or cared, but a few did.
Feliciano. Roderich. Elizabeta.
But Gilbert and I were affected the most. Especially me.
Every year, around that day, Feliciano avoided me. If he ever did happen to see me, he only gave me a sad smile and a half-hearted "ciao."
I don't blame him, though. I avoid mirrors around that day.
I woke up this morning and went downstairs.
I found Gilbert sitting at the kitchen table. He tried to hide it when he heard me coming, but I know he was looking at the picture of us.
The picture of us before he left.
"Good morning," he said. His voice had an unusual air of seriousness as he spoke. "You ready?"
I put my shoes on and nodded.
Gilbert stared at me for a moment. "Aren't you going to fix your hair?"
I only shook my head in response, but something about the way he looked at me made me ask, "Do you want me to?"
Gilbert smiled and walked over to me. He messed with my hair for a bit, and then kneeled to get a good look at me. "You look like him," he said quietly.
I know it was meant to be a compliment, but it only made me feel even more sad. I looked down at my feet. Gilbert took my hand and led me out the door.
We walked to the small church in silence. It was a cool morning with a slight breeze, and the sky was still a light blue. The trees were nearly bare, all of the leaves painting the ground warm colors.
We went through the iron gate and stopped at the small faded stone. There were no dates on it; there never were. The name was gone; it had faded away after years of wind and rain.
On the soft earth in front of the stone were some flowers. There was a small bouquet of tulips and edelweiss. There was also a small flower pot with a single stylized lily.
Gilbert went forward and bowed his head. He stood in silence for a moment, and then bent down to the ground. He gently placed a blue knapweed in front of the stone. Standing up again, he put his hand where the name used to be. He let it fall to his side a moment later, and he wiped his eyes.
Then it was my turn.
I stepped forward and closed my eyes. Every small memory I had of him began swimming through my head, flooding my consciousness:
We were riding around on the back of a big golden retriever. I was almost scared, but he assured me we would be fine.
Gilbert was staring at us, trying to figure out who was who after we had switched clothes.
He was chasing after me and demanding that I give him his hat back.
He was excitedly telling me about a girl who he sorta-kinda might've had a really big crush on.
We were in a river, laughing and splashing water at each other.
I could still feel the water on my face.
It took me a moment to realize that the water was tears.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I dropped the knapweed I had in my hands. I turned to find Gilbert standing beside me. I looked up at him for a moment, and he gave me a sad smile.
I couldn't help it. I wrapped my arms around Gilbert and cried. He went down on his knees and hugged me back. He was stroking the back of my head, whispering comforting words in a soothing voice, but I couldn't hear him.
He was killed.
My twin.
