It’s like she’s lost somewhere, out there wandering around, trying to find her way back home. Or still in hospital, and I must go visit her and bring her back.
I wish I could. My oldest sister, Lucy, died over two years ago and the pain is still there. Not as sharp, not as blinding, as it was when I first said good-bye at her bedside when she was taking her last breath. She smiled at me and quietly said, “I love you too.” A piece of me died with her.
I’m not going to eulogize her. That’s been done. I just wish that everyone who knew her could remember her goodness, her love, her giving personality. And she didn’t need to give anything to anyone upon her death.
Me–I just miss her.