As he stood there, I thought of the future they had planned. They were to be married next fall; he and my sister. She’d even picked out her theme.  Monkeys.  Little blue monkeys. That was part of her charm. It had all been cut short one morning when Kara went on her daily jog.

I turned from the shelf of velveteen rabbits I was wrapping and looked at him. It was the first time since the funeral that I’d really looked at him. His tear stained face was soft and raw. It was such a contradiction against his stark chiseled features. The dark circles encasing his eyes sunk in joining the hollows of his cheeks; forming vast valleys from sleep deprivation.  He hadn’t been sleeping much, if any at all.

His eyes met mine and I could see the tears swelling behind his lids; the pain paling him. He swallowed hard, trying to clear his throat. He made a brief attempt to speak but the words failed him. I smiled a meek conciliatory smile just to let him know he didn’t have to speak. I knew how hard this was and to be standing in the doorway of the woman he loved, looking at her identical twin, had to be even more painful.  

He drew his lips in, trying to conceal the quiver forming, and nodded in silent agreement not to speak. I continued gently wrapping the multitude of Kara’s velveteen rabbits. I never understood them but she loved them since we were children.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Matt step all the way into the room shutting the door behind him. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. I knew what he was doing. I did the same thing when I walked in. I missed her so and he too was craving her near him. There hadn’t been a day since they met that they didn’t speak to each other.

Matt began to move around the room. Looking at her DVD collection stacked on the floor ready to be boxed up. He passed them by just as he did the CDs and cassette tapes she insisted on keeping. He continued walking until he came to the shelf holding all the picture frames she had amassed. There were pictures of nearly every moment of her life on that shelf.  He stood frozen in place scanning the images in front of him. He broke his statuesque pose to reach for a simple frame.

I peeked. I tried to give him his space but I peeked. The frame contained the two of them several Decembers ago. It was at one of the many 5K races they ran together. Kara, donning one of those fur lined hats with a couple of silver sleigh bells hanging from the long braided ties on each side.  Her red face pushed up against Matt’s; both with their usual fun-loving smiles. Matt was holding up a blue barrel of monkeys and Kara’s gloved fingers joined his, wrapping around the plastic container.  

I broke the silence before I even realized it. “She ran her best times when she ran with you.”

Matt, bringing himself back from the moment in the picture, nodded. Choking back a crackling in his deep voice he managed to speak, “Yeah, that’s because she pushed me hard. Plus she was so competitive. ”   A small grin tried to work its way to the surface but he stifled it.

“You were good with each other that way.” I said. My eyes met his and I could feel the pain in them. He turned away with a rigid military grace. He released the picture and it gentle fell into my hand in one smooth movement.

“She was a good runner. She was a great motivator.” As the last word left his lips the smile won out and grew. His eyes began to drift away somewhere to the past.  I looked down at the picture in my hand. My sister was the strong one; the athlete; and yes, Matt was right – she was the motivator. 

“What’s the deal with the monkeys?” I asked. I’m not sure why I asked. It just seemed to pop out. Matt turned and looked curiously at me. I lifted the picture in my hand toward him and tapped my finger on the barrel of monkeys between them.

He closed the space between us and took the frame gently from my hand. The smile returned on his face.  “That was the race for Alzheimer’s I think. You know Kara…always looking for a way to cure the ills of the world.”

Matt was still running through his memory. “We were making good time but man, was it cold. It was almost 18 degrees and the road was a slushy mess.” He released a deep laugh. “Kara would run in a monsoon if she thought it would help someone.” He seemed to get lost deeper in the memory. “Even though it was freezing out, she just had to stop at the second check point to get this pretty little wrapped present. They gave them out to the runners. I guess as a thank you for freezing yourself to death for a good cause.” A full chuckle rolled out from deep inside him. The smile almost glowed. “It was the barrel of monkeys.” He tapped his finger on the picture frame and handed it to me as he walked to the window. 

“We finished eighth and tenth.” He cocked his head toward me with a crocked smile. “She kicked my ass on that one even with picking up the monkeys.”  

He was back in the room with me now so I didn’t feel as bad speaking. “So what happened to the monkeys?”

“She kept one...called it our ‘love monkey’ and gave the rest of the barrel to a little kid waiting with his mother for the Christmas parade to start.”  Smiling, he took the frame from my hand and set it back in its place on the shelf.  “Let’s get her things packed up before the truck gets here.”

“Are you sure you’re up to this? I mean…I can manage….”  He cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

“No, I want to do this.”  He scanned the pictures “I need to do this.” He looked back at me and gave me a painful smile.

I returned the smile. “O.k., let’s get started.”

We worked for a couple of hours packing up the remnants of my sister’s existence on earth.  Mostly we worked in silence. Occasionally, we’d talk about the weather coming. A few times we shared some funny story of Kara. A laugh here. A choked back tear there. A lot of love everywhere.

Eventually, I stumbled across a worn out cigar box. I remembered it from our Grandfather. Kara kept her love notes in it when we were teenagers. We stopped, looked at one another then at the box, and sat on the edge of the coffee table. With the box on my lap, I cautiously opened the lid.

Inside the box were a few odds and ends - mementos of her life. There was a button from our trip to the World’s Fair, a bottle cap from her first beer, the obituary from our parents’ funeral, faded pages of letters, a pressed flower, and there, tucked in the corner peaking from under it all was the crooked arm of a little blue monkey.

Matt’s oversized fingers gently plucked it from its hiding place and laid it gingerly on the palm of his hand as if it were made of rice paper. His eyes glistened. The tears welled up, fighting to be released.  His body trembled, then shook and he dropped his head. The tears finally came. His large hand engulfed the small plastic toy as he pulled it to his chest. He sat for what seemed like an eternity and yet not long enough to mourn our loss.  No words could help either of us. I sat there beside him with my own silent tears. I’m not sure how long we were there immobilized. I’m not even sure I knew when we broke free of our paralysis. The rest of the day we were both distractedly performing our task of packing my sister away.

As the last of her things were boxed, I held tightly to one small velveteen rabbit figurine. I’m not sure why but I had to take it with me.  “I’m keeping this one.” I announced.  I knew it wouldn’t replace her or keep her with me truly but I knew it was a part of her and right then I needed a part of her.

Matt smiled. “That’s a good choice. “ His husky voice was like butter.

“What…”, a lump formed in my throat cutting my words off.  “What about you?” I finally choked out.

“What about me? “ He looked at me puzzlingly.

“Don’t you want something of her?” I asked

He looked around the room. A small but content smile formed on his face. “I’ve got her right here.” He patted his shirt pocket directly over his heart then picked up the box.  It was then that I saw the outline of the bl ue crooked arm. A smile grew on my face and warmed my heart.  I guess it made sense that he kept a monkey to keep Kara alive in his heart.