My sister meant the world to me, and when she died, there was an emptiness that I did not know how to deal with.
I had a very blessed life. I had parents who loved me and my sister, and my sister was someone who would always be there to help me out. Growing up, I had three heroes in my life; mom, dad, and my elder sister. Mom and dad were busy with work, so I guess it's safe to say that my sister was the one who took care of me and made me who I am now. Even when we were kids, the only thing I always wanted was to grow up and be like my sister. She was my role model and I loved her to bits. We never had a difficult relationship, not like how the movies show. My sister loved me and she always let me tag along, be it at school or at the mall.
The bond my sister and I shared was pure gold and there's nothing like it. She was the one I went to for comfort, advice and even for life lessons. She never let me down and if at all I was stuck in a spot, she'd drop whatever it was that she was doing and she'd rush over to my aid. This meant that I had someone to count on, and at that moment, I knew the relationship we had was for life. However, we didn't know that I'd spoken too soon.
I was 16 when it happened. My sister, who was five years older than I was, was away at college, having the time of her life. Even then, with the newly found freedom. she always had time for my antics. If anyone was the life of the party, it was my sister. She had a ball at college and I was as happy for her as I was jealous. I wanted to have some fun, too, but it seemed like my sister had gotten all the extrovert genes in the family.
So, after our daily phone calls, she told me she was making a small trip with her friends. She promised to send pictures because she knew I had a crush on one of her friends. Blushing, I hung up and got back to my work. The next day, when it was time for her call, I did not get any. I thought it was because she was having too much fun. But somehow, there was a nagging feeling in the bottom of my stomach, saying something wasn't right, and this was a feeling I went to bed with.
I don't know what happened or how it happened, but a while later, my mom got a call. She let out a shriek and fainted. I knew something terrible had happened and I wondered if it was my fault. Was it my fault for not telling her to be careful? Was it my fault for wishing she had a little less fun? Was it my fault for not telling our parents about where she was? But I knew my parents needed to be comforted, so I pushed aside my tears and my worries and I held them while they sobbed.
Months passed, but I could never get over that feeling. I missed my sister, but that wasn't going to bring her back. She meant the world to me and without her life had no meaning at all, it was like a part of me died with her the day we got the dreaded phone call. I know my life is never going to be the same without my sister, but there's hope that somewhere, there are two siblings who love each other and can't bear to spend their lives apart, just like us, and that oddly comforts me.