After some tests, the doctor told us that Charlie had lung cancer.

I didn't even know what to think. I had learned about cancer a little bit in school but I hadn't learned about his type of cancer. I remember crying when the doctor told us and Charlie gave me a look that seemed to tell me not to worry about him. I forced myself to smile at him and he gave me a pat on the back and I heard the doctor telling my parents that the cancer was pretty early into development so there was hope of curing him. But I was barely listening to that because he had pulled me into a hug at that moment.

Where was I? Right. The day he died. I'm sorry, I get caught up in talking about my brother because we had some fun times together. Anyway, he died in December. December seventh to be exact. In the days leading up to the worst day of my life, he was in terrible shape. He was spending longer in the hospital than he usually would when his lungs gave up on him and I was becoming increasingly worried. After school, I would drive to the hospital, the exact same hospital that diagnosed him six years ago, and talk to him about my day. He would tell me about his but it mostly consisted of stories that the other patients told him during lunch hour. That day, I was driving down there like I always would with the light snow soaring down from the sky and I found my parents in the waiting room. This was odd to me. There were both working at this time so they would visit him after each of their shifts ended.
"Hi guys." I  didn't bother hiding my confusion as I walked up to them. "You're here early."
My mother didn't say anything to me. She just sobbed loudly as she hugged my father. He looked up at me with the most serious look I think he's ever given me, even up to this day.
"He requested to see you."
That's when I felt my heart leap up to my throat. Nonetheless, hearing my mother's cries behind me, I walked down the familiar halls.

Everything was still the same. A smell that I can only describe as life and death mixed together filled the room. I could hear the soul crushing cries of people that had just lost a loved one and the cries of pure joy as someone new entered the world. Nurses looked at me with a scowl on their face and the doctors gave me a friendly smile. I hate hospitals. I really do. I pushed that to the back of my mind as I turned an all too familiar corner and went into an all too familiar room.

If you looked at my brother at that moment and I told you that he was nineteen, you wouldn't believe me. He looked much older than what he really was. His hair was almost completely gone from the chemotherapy (It had only just begun growing back) and he was as pale as a ghost. He looked so sick and so miserable as he layed there in that same bed in that same white-walled room that he had known for six years of his life. Flowers that I had bought him just yesterday sat on a small table next to him with a note written in neat cursive. The sight of my once-vibrant big brother made my heart physically hurt.
"Charlie?" I croaked, trying to hold back tears as I walked over to him. "Y-you okay?"
He looked up at me with those big brown eyes of his and said, "No, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay for six years."
"I'm sorry." I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"It's not your fault." His eyes movedtowards the arrangement of colorful flowers I got him. "It's no one's fault. Everything happens for a reason."
"Why you?" I asked, sitting down next to him and grabbing his hand.
"I ask myself that sometimes." He paused. "But then I realize that I'm so lucky. I have a caring family that comes to see me every day and I have the best sister in the world. One that's smart and beautiful and is going to contribute something wonderful to society."
"Charlie." I didn't bother to stop the tears from falling.
He looked at me, waiting for a response. I then realized that I didn't really know what to say.
"Tell Mom and Dad I love them." He leg go of my hand. "By the way, I love you too. And also, maybe this time my lungs will do me well."
I looked over and wiped away my tears and I saw his eyes slowly close for the very last time.
"Nineteen years wasn't enough." I whispered. "Not enough for someone like you."