The worst days.

Why am I writing about everything that happened from the day that I found out my sister was sick until she passed away?

The odds of me forgetting everything is very low but I'm still afraid that I'd forget. These are the worst days of my life and I don't want to forget a single minute of it. All of it helped me realize the meaning of life and love.

Before everything that happened, I know that there are people in my life that I love, I know I have been happy and sad. I know that I have struggled because of different situations that I have been in and I know that I have had good things happen to me.

When I lost my sister, everything had a new and deeper meaning.

Ever since I was little, I've told my sister different stories, dreams and experiences that I have had. One story that I never told her was how it was for me while she was sick. The difficulties and fears that I've had, things that I didn't realize until now.

The truth is, I can never speak to her anymore. Not in a way where she could give me an advice when I need it, I can never hear a new joke from her anymore, a new lecture, we can't even argue anymore.

Every decision that I make in life would mostly end with "I wonder what she would say if she was here". As much as I know her, I can only guess.

During the time that my sister was sick, my whole family and I had stopped everything. We had changed everything about our lives so that we could help take care of her. But, we couldn't communicate with each other enough. How are we suppose to tell the other how bad this experience is when we know very well we are all going through it? One sentence and we'd cry like there's no tomorrow, and we had to be strong for her and for each other.

It was months of not knowing anything. Months of waking up everyday, rushing to her bed to see if she's still there. Everyday was a trial and a relief.

I even remember waking up from a whole night of taking care of her and I was so scared. I woke up and there were more people than usual outside my room, and I could only think about the worst.

My siblings and I could only look at each other, not having to say the words. We were all afraid that the one who took care of us when our own parents couldn't, would be gone forever.

It feels like it is such a cliche to say this but she was in a way, a hero for us. She took on the role as the oldest sibling and more, because of everything that our family went through. She truly is one of the best people that I know. She was funny, beautiful, smart and quite good at winning people over. She had helped and was loved by so many people.

My family and I have discussed and wondered together why she was taken so early in life.

On a good day, I like to think that maybe, her purpose in this world is done. Maybe because of all the things that she has done for others, especially for our family, it's time for her to finally rest and it's time for everyone that she's helped to grow on our own.

The truth is, we will never know why.

It is an effort to keep thinking that what had happened was for the best, but it is something that my family and I have to keep in our minds.

Thus, writing about my sister, is something that helps me to keep going. To live life as happily as I could. To keep myself from being stuck in sadness and anger.