I wanted to share some enthusiasm, but I hold myself back. This summer I became the invisible person at home. Not that it hasn’t been like this my whole life, but it surely was on purpose that my parents acted like this towards me. It’s ridiculous, I know.

“Mum, where are the refilling bottles?'' I called out.

My parents were still traumatized from last year's happening and I couldn't cheer them up at all. I was afraid to mention his death. It’s such a deep topic. I had to call my mother often times before she started to reply to me. Depression was among us and it hit my mother and father the most. I’m just sad and didn’t know what to do. How I felt was ignored though. I was the only one who slowly started to process the death of my brother who got run over by a car in late November of last year. The month was cold and already icy. It's been almost seven months, but still my parents weren't able to assemble the shards which were caused of the great loss of our simple family. The family pride seemed to be destroyed. I stood behind the window, second floor, as I asked my mother loudly enough for the second time. She hung up the laundry while my dad was t the shrubberies in our garden. Is it this hard to look up to me and give me a simple answer?

“It's in his room.'' My dad said, not daring to look at me. I couldn't read his emotion neither my mum's. It's just .

“Ahh..'' I sighed eagerly and closed the window afterwards. There was no use to try anymore. I tried, multiple times, and the results were zero.

I always felt the urge to not open his room, but this time I needed to in order to get what I needed. A strange feeling overcame me when I opened the door. The room was the same, it didn’t change. We still didn't decide what to do with it. It looked like he was still alive and lived here, like nothing has happened in the past. He had a lot of cups on his desk and medals were seen on his walls. They symbolized his football victories over the last couple years. His success was incredible and historically admirable. He was a born champion in our family and a great athlete. A great build man who achieved something in his life before it got ended dramatically. Pictures of his friends were stuck on the pin board above the desk which showed off his popularity right away. He stood in the middle of them, smiling. His posture and face depicted like a model. He truly was the focus and the center of our family and no one would even try to deny it. Not only had he a beautiful girlfriend which he went to prom with as seen on one of the pictures, but also he had a kind heart. That’s why I'm thankful for. I would never hate him or be jealous because he deserved everything that he achieved unless me. It gets me every time, I just have to look around first to process the reality. I respected his room to the fullest, even more after his death and this behavior of me wouldn’t change. The portrait of him, in the middle of all the prizes got my attention. I look up to him and I'm happy that he's my brother. I would never replace him for someone else. I assumed that the bottles were in his closet, which I opened afterwards. The bottles were the first thing I saw. I grabbed them and closed the closet slowly just to be quiet. I stood there and watched them for a bit. Usually I'm not allowed to take something out of his room, but I remember when he gave me something f