Christabelle decided not to patrol that night. After a long day of final essays and scholarship writing, she found herself too mentally exhausted to be useful out in the world that night. Instead, she elected to stay indoors and watch a movie with her aunt and uncle - something she rarely did. She wanted to enjoy their company, and they hers, which worked out nicely. Curled up into a corner of the couch, they watched some romantic comedy to keep their minds off the upcoming funeral for the dearly departed Bradley. Christa had promised herself and Melinda that she would write a speech in honor of her cousin to commemorate his life. She felt it was her duty to her family.

She only half paid attention to the movie, instead opting to focus on being with family and thinking about what she would write, how she would write it and how she would deliver the speech. For Melinda, she would get up in front of the gathering and deliver it, and present a cloth made just for the Reeses as a gift. She was determined to do just that.

Once the movie was over, Christa, Aunt Liz and Uncle Al all had dinner around the table. The meal was eaten in silence, but it was not an awkward one. Instead, it was simply the silence of being grateful for having company. They didn't need to say anything for the others to know they were loved and appreciated. It was their way of offering support to one another, and Christa thought that was both strong and inspiring. After assisting with the dishes, she quietly retired to her room, closed the door and sat down at her desk to begin the speech.

The laptop blinked at her as it woke itself up, the word processing program still open and blank, ready and waiting for Christa to start writing. The teen felt her mind was swimming with a million different things she wanted to say about Bradley - how much of a kind soul he was, how brave he was, how understanding he was. Bradley was the kind of person who couldn't judge you even if he wanted to. He never thought it was right, and he would be your friend no matter who you were or what you did. He was the one universal constant. As she raised her fingers to the keyboard, Christa felt herself staring at the stark white page in Word with apprehension. She knew this had to be from the heart. She wanted to celebrate his life, not mourn his passing. Bradley wouldn't have wanted it that way.

I want to take you back to the time in your youth when the world was limitless, your potential phenomenal, and the sky seemed endless. Perhaps it was twenty or more years ago for you, or perhaps it's still your world right now. But I want you to remember that freedom you felt when you ran across the freshly mowed lawn at full speed into the sprinklers in the summer, or the pile of leaves you tried desperately not to jump into in the fall. Mom would get mad because she spent all day raking, but even if you did get into the pile, she'd laugh and give you a hug. You were forgiven. You were just a kid - sweet, innocent, loving and had those wild eyes of endless energy.

Bradley would often lead our little quartet on adventures into the "sand dunes" back behind the Reese house. They weren't actually sand dunes. They were just dirt piles, but when we were that young, they were like mountains and we were the desert nomads who challenged ourselves to discover all its secrets. Melinda, Zachary, Bradley and I were the brave souls who conquered those sand dunes out back, riding our camels that were actually just Beanie Babies. When we grew old enough, we said, we'd try to fish in the canal and find sharks to sell on the sidewalk with lemonade. Who wouldn't want a pet shark to go with your lemonade?

This was a time when we didn't know about sicknesses beyond chicken pox, which were itchy at worst, and your occasional cold or the flu. We didn't know what Bradley had, and neither did Bradley. It didn't matter. When you're young, you don't let those kinds of things slow you down, and Bradley sure didn't. Bradley was the first one into the sandbox and usually the last one out. Melinda would have to drag him by the shirt to get him to come inside.

Bradley was a master cat wrangler, space pirate and dragon slayer. When Princess Melinda was captured by the evil sorcerer and his dragon, it was Bradley who rallied the village militia to go save her, and save her he did. I sat down with him and wrote the saga of saving Princess Melinda, even though I was only eight and the whole saga consisted of three pages with triple spacing.

I want everyone to remember the time when your parents let you have ice cream for dinner because you had a great report card, or let you stay up to watch a scary movie on a Saturday night and later let you sleep in their bed because you were so scared. I want you to remember sneaking out of your room on Christmas Eve to watch the chimney for Santa and his reigndeer. I want you to remember all that spunk, that drive and all that imagination you had, or still have, as a child.

Bradley didn't let the disease he carried stop him from doing what he loved to do. He didn't let the disease define him. And so I choose to honor and love his life, just the way he would have wanted it. If Bradley were here, he would say not to cry, and not to give up. Brave knights don't give up. Brave knights save their sisters, the princesses, from the evil sorcerers and their dragons. Bradley would want us to celebrate and love each other, even if he's not here with us right now. Bradley would want us to remember his triumphs and not his pain or his sadness.

Bradley, this is Christa. I want you to know that we'll always have you in our hearts, and I'll always remember that you were and still are one of the bravest knights, desert nomads and space pirates I'd ever have the privalege to meet.

Christa could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she wrote, but she pressed on. She wanted it to come from the heart and she wanted to focus on the good times she and the other children had together. She truly believed Bradley would have wanted it that way. Clicking the save button, Christa closed her laptop and went to prepare for bed. She'd read over it in the morning, but somehow, she felt that a great weight had been lifted from her heart, like she had said exactly what she wanted to say.