To my brother George, who gave me a similar statue before he died of cancer back in 2004.

Mary Lou Holder sank down next to her brother, the one who was dying of cancer, and started tugging at the bright red bow of the gift he had just handed her.

“This is sweet, Jake, that you’ve gotten me a present. You know you didn’t have to…”

Jacob, twenty-five, smiled at his younger sister. “Are you kidding? For the rest of your life, you’d be thinking what a self-absorbed clod I was for not honoring your 21st birthday. That’s not the legacy I had in mind.”

Mary Lou stifled a sigh and instead ripped the purple wrapping paper from the small box. She raised the lid and peered inside.

“You’ve gotten me some Hindu or Buddhist god?” she asked, lifting the brass statue and studying the multi-armed figure standing in a circle, one leg raised as if dancing. “I didn’t know you were into Asian religions now.”

Jacob smiled, his jaundiced complexion making his teeth look especially white. “I just can’t connect with Christianity right now. Lately, I’ve been more drawn to Hinduism. That’s Shiva—the god of Destruction.”

Mary Lou brought the statue closer, staring at it with a puzzled expression. “He looks more like he’s celebrating life than destroying anything. He’s dancing, for God’s sake.”

“The Hindus call this one the Dancing Shiva Nataraja,” Jacob said. “They believe he’s performing a cosmic dance, and when he finishes, the universe will end—to make way for a new one.”

“Death and rebirth?” Mary Lou asked, nudging her brother gently. “Do I sense a theme here?”

Jacob chuckled, leaning back on his hospital pillows. “I have to admit, reincarnation is looking better and better to me. Please don’t judge.”

“Judge you? I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be you. You’re braver than I’d ever be.”

“Necessity is the mother of invention,” Jacob said, then shrugged. “Though maybe that doesn’t exactly apply here.”

She hesitated. “Are you afraid?”

“I’m tired,” he answered quietly. “Afraid was a while back. Now I’m ready for the next phase—the dance to end, so that something new can begin.”

Mary Lou turned her face so he couldn’t see her tears. “You’ve put up a good fight,” she whispered.

Jacob patted her hand. “When you look at Shiva, I want you to think of a new dance starting for me. I’ll be happy for that day to come.”

Mary Lou sat with her brother until he drifted to sleep. She slipped the statue into her handbag, leaned over to kiss his warm cheek, and tiptoed out of the hospital room.

When she opened the door to her apartment and switched on the light, a group of friends jumped up and shouted, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

Two weeks later, at 3 a.m., Mary Lou’s phone rang, waking her from a deep sleep.

“He’s gone,” her mother said.

Mary Lou whispered a goodbye and set the phone down. As she turned toward her nightstand, her eyes rested on the statue of Shiva. She reached for it, cradled it in both hands, and said softly, “A new dance begins, sweet brother. Enjoy the celebration.”