Today, a quiet but heavy realization hit me.
My sister passed away in 1996. I was blessed to have her in my life for 29 years, but as of this year, I have now lived without her for 30. For the very first time, the years of missing her outnumber the years we shared.
Yet, numbers lie. The math of grief doesn't match the math of the heart.
Even after three decades, I still feel her so vividly around me. I can still hear her laughter, picture her innocence, and honestly, even recall her quick anger. Her emotions were always on the extremes—there was no middle ground with her—and that raw, unfiltered authenticity is exactly what endeared her to absolutely everyone.
It made me think about how weird and beautiful human connection is. If you love deeply enough, a person you haven't seen in 30 years can remain fiercely alive, loved, and close to your heart. Meanwhile, if you fall out of love or a relationship sours, you could be living under the exact same roof with someone and constantly forget their presence altogether. Physical proximity means nothing; love is the only thing that anchors someone to your life.
Time keeps moving, but love stays completely still.
Miss you, my dear sister... Your memories are, and will always be, my greatest treasure. ✨❤️
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