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I steadied myself on the ledge. Looking down, I saw death itself looking back and mocking me.

"You can't do it. You'll never jump.  Just walk away now." But I wouldn't just walk away. This was something I had to do. I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't jump. My toe slid along the rocky edge. I got as close as I could with out actually going over.

Standing so close to the edge, I felt close enough to Satan himself. But in a way, I felt God with me also. God whispering in my ear giving me strength, Satan mimicking God in my other ear like every ones really annoying little brother. As I looked in to the pit of death itself, I thought back to all the events that lead me to where I am.

I thought about the fact that my sister hadn't told me she was dying, when everyone else knew. In her letter she'd told me that she needed me to know that she still loved me, and that no matter what she'd remember us playing in the back yard when I was still in diapers, running around, pretending that I could fly. She'd written more.

"Dear Mikhail.

I know you're mad at me. I also know that one day, you will forgive me. I found out that I had cancer when you were about six months old. I've been fighting it ever since. You never knew because I went into remission when you were three. And for the past twenty years, I'd been deemed 'cured'. But, the doctors told me as a young child, that I'd never be 'cured. I'd always be a cancer survivor, until the day it took my life. The statistics showed that it was most likely going to be the reason for my demise.

I decided to never tell you. I told mom and dad to never tell you either. It was a promise I made them make to me while I was still in the hospital. You were so young, and so innocent, and I didn't want you to have to deal with what I was dealing with. It may not have been the right thing to do, but I did it.

I found out that the cancer had come back around a year ago. You were away, learning to be a great doctor, and I couldn't take you away from that. I hoped so much that you would graduate, and go on and become a great surgeon. Like we dreamed. Like you studied for. Like you and I both know you can do.

As I'm sure mom has told you by now, but I have ovarian cancer. Or, had. As I promised mom to give you this letter three weeks after my funeral, I should hope I am dead when you read this. Or else mom and I are having a nice long conversation when she gets up here.

Any who, I have a few words I want to share with you. As I'm dead, I want you to take care of mom and dad. Go visit gramma every chance you get. Find a cure for cancer. Write a book and get it published. Make sure you listen to every ones opinion.

And finally, live your dreams Mikhail. Learn how to fly.

                                                                                    I love you Mikhail.

                                                                                                Alexana."

I still didn't understand why she wouldn't tell me. Maybe to protect her baby brother. She was six years older than myself. And her entire life, she'd wanted nothing other than for me to succeed. She'd spent hours helping me with my biology homework, pushing me to take it early, so I could take chemistry early, so I could get into med school quicker.

But one thing I did understand was her advice. Her parting words. I do take care of my parents, I help mow their lawn now. And since Alexana died, I have gone to see my grandmother twice already in the nursing home on the other side of town. I'm still working on that whole cure for cancer thing, but it's already become my life's work. I've cooled off and started listening to people when we talk. And I'm writing a book. About her. My sister. The great and loving Alexana Jelavich.

Now there's only one last thing to do on her list.

"Are you ready?" My instructor asked me.

"No." I said simply. I smiled and plunged backwards into the ravine behind me. I spiraled head first at the ground, going faster and faster. And then as I neared the bottom, I was pulled back up by a rubber life line. I fell back again, repeating it. Feeling the wind whipping around my face. I felt the air, and I knew this is how the birds must feel.

And I knew this is what it was like to fly.