It’s been a year since you left,

Not by either of our choice.

A victim of happenstance,

Wrong place - wrong time.

A year of feeling half a whole,

A void inside,

No longer growing,

But eternal.

Where are you now…

A new life to start?

Waiting for us somewhere?

Or simply nowhere?

She asked what happens when you die,

She’s only three.

I tried to keep it physical - no breathing, no talking, no moving… no more.

“Will my sister die?”

“Yes, my darling,”

“Will I die?”

“Yes, my darling, but hopefully not for a long long time.”

The feelings bubbled over,

I’ll hold her forever if I must.

I hold back my own tears,

Not because it’s a weakness,

But to lend her my strength.

You can’t hear any of this.

But I’ll still come here to talk.

Every year.

I miss you.