I looked up from my photo album as my husband walked into the room, “I was just looking through some old pictures. Remember this?” I asked, showing him a picture of Nick and Aaron laughing by a pool.
“Yeah, it was when we first moved into the house. Has it really been 40 years?”
“Yeah, but it’s been a wonderful 40 years Howie. You make my life worth living.”
“Well that’s good to know,” he said, kissing my forehead.
I put the old photo album into my suitcase and locked it. Howie ushered me into the living room where our family was waiting for us to put the luggage in the car.
“Hey Mom,” my daughter Alisha said as she hugged me. I hugged my daughter tightly. It had been three months since I’d seen her last. She’d gone off to college and she was rarely ever at home.
Howie and I had three children, Alisha being the youngest. She turned 21 last fall. Andrew is the middle child. He’s 24 now and his wife is expecting their first child in the next two months. Our oldest child is Dawn. She’s 27 now and she just had her second child. She’s the only one of our children that can’t make it to the funeral.
As we got into the car, I pulled out the old photo album again. I looked through the pictures, frozen moments in time, capturing my lost youth on paper, and began to cry. There are pictures of everything in here. There are shots of A.J. and Julia’s wedding, pictures of their kids Chrissy and Jamie, even pictures of their dogs. Kevin and Joanna’s wedding pictures are in the album as well as pictures of their children Lexi, David, Erin, and Breanna. Joanna is my best friend. Howie and I set Kevin and Jo up shortly after the Backstreet Boys released their fifth album, Paradise.
Nick and Miranda’s wedding photos are probably the most beautiful pictures in the album. They were married on a yacht in the Caribbean. Their only child, Brian (who was named after Brian Littrell) was born two years later.
Brian and Cindy’s wedding was small, but wonderful. They had four children, Linda, Katie, Mark, and John.
Aaron, sweet dear Aaron, married my little sister Rebecca. They had two children before the accident that tore our family apart.
Rebecca was riding her horse and she fell off. In the confusion, the horse stepped on her. Luckily, she lived through it, but she would never be able to have another child.
I fell asleep looking through my memories. I dreamt of a more simple time, when everything was perfect. I remember days when we didn’t feel like doing anything, so we’d go to the Carter’s house to go swimming or just to hang out.
Our children love hearing about the old days. They listen to Howie and me each time we tell of the touring and the interviews and all the fans as if it were the first time they were hearing it. They laugh as we bring out the old CD player and the VCR to watch or listen to the Backstreet Boys.
We’ve taught them all the old dances and the words to all the songs. They still love to do the routines with us.
Howie woke me up when we got to the airport. I’ve always hated to fly, but these days, it’s getting better. Crashes are few and far between, but I still feel so uneasy stepping onto an airplane. I fell asleep shortly after takeoff with the photo album clutched tightly in my arms. Howie again woke me up when we arrived.
We walked off the plane and found Miranda, Nick’s wife. We hugged as tightly as two old women could and just stood there for a few moments, just holding each other.
“Where’s Nick?” I asked.
“He’s with Brian. He and Faith are getting married,” she answered, referring to her son.
“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for them.”
“We are too. Come on, the car’s not far. Alisha, can you and Andrew get the bags?”
“Sure Aunt Miranda.”
Even though we aren’t related, all the Backstreet kids (as the media so “lovingly” put it) called the Backstreet Boys and their wives (including Aaron) their Aunts and Uncles.
“When’s the funeral?” Howie asked softly.
“Tomorrow afternoon at 3:00.”
“I’m so sorry Miranda,” Howie said.
“I should be the one consoling you. She was your sister.”
I began crying again and we stopped talking about it. We got to Nick and Miranda’s house a little while later and Miranda showed us to our room. I sat in the bedroom with Howie. Neither of us spoke. We just stared at the floor, out thoughts consuming us. After about three hours, Brian Carter knocked on the door.
“Uncle Howie? Aunt Kylie?”
“Come in Brian,” Howie called.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, walking in, “And Uncle Aaron is here with Randy and Timmy.”
I looked up at the mention of my brother-in-law and my nephew’s names. I got up off the bed and walked out of the room, closely followed by Howie.
“Aaron,” I said as I descended the stairs.
Aaron looked up from the floor, “Kylie.”
He got up and threw his arms around me. We both stood there, holding each other and crying.
We broke apart a few minutes later and went to the dinner table. No one really ate anything, we all just picked at our plates and moved the food around. I guess no one was really very hungry.
That night, I had trouble sleeping. I went downstairs at around midnight to find Aaron siting at the kitchen table in the dark.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked.
“No. You?”
“No. All I can think about is Becky. I wasn’t here for here. Why couldn’t I have been able to say goodbye to my little sister?”
“I know. I wish you could’ve been here for us. The doctors say that she had a heart attack in her sleep. At least she wasn’t in pain.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“It’s hard, but I’ve got to be strong for my boys. They’re barely teenagers and they’ve lost their mother. It devastated me when my mom died and I was 32!”
“I know how you feel Airboy.”
“No one’s called me that since I was 18.”
“You’re still our little Airboy, even if we don’t say it.”
He smiled weakly, “Thanks.”
“Hey Aaron, do you think that Becky’s watching us from Heaven?”
“I’m pretty sure of it. She’s probably playing cards or fishing with our moms.”
It was my turn to smile then, “You’re probably right. Good night Aaron.”
“Night Kylie.”
I went back to bed where my husband was snoring softly. I looked out the open window at the sky. The stars were shining brightly.
“Dear Lord,” I whispered, “Please keep my sister safe up there and watch over Aaron and the children. Let them know that You’re there watching them and that Becky will always be with them in spirit. Help them through this difficult time Lord. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.”
I closed my eyes and rolled over. I felt Howie’s arms around me and I whispered “Good night” just before I fell asleep.
The next morning, we woke up a little early so we could get ready for my baby sister’s funeral. During the funeral, I managed not to cry. Aaron didn’t cry either, not even when he spoke. I could see pain etched in his handsome features. I’d always been proud of Aaron, but the strength he showed that day was inspirational.
He didn’t cry, even though I know he wanted to, for the sake of his teenage sons, who were sitting in the first row of pews in the church.
As Rebecca’s casket was being lowered into the ground, a single tear fell down Aaron’s cheek.
He placed a white rose on her coffin before he left, because it had always been our favorite flower. He whispered, “I love you” before leaving to take his sons back to Nick’s house.
I was the last person at Becky’s grave. I pulled out a photo from my purse. It was of Becky and me when we were little. I was holding her on my shoulders as she held onto my favorite stuffed bear.
“I love you Becky. I’ll see you again one day. Until then, be a good girl. Good bye,” I said as I let the photograph fall from my hands onto the earth below. It could’ve been the wind or just my old imagination, but I swear I heard Becky say “Goodbye” as I walked away.
“Why is it so hard to say that? I don’t think we’ll ever know,” I thought as I walked back to the car where my husband was waiting for me, looking back to my sister one last time.