Rest On, Beloved.

It's been nearly 30 years but the effect still lingers. Though memories fade, the ones I have of you still remain fresh. Funnily enough, I didn't even know I had those memories until I was grown and I started having flashes. When we lost you, I was still too little to understand what happened and the ramifications it will have on me going forward.

Anyone just getting to know me now will assume I'm this quiet, introverted dude who doesn't care about running around and having fun - they won't be far from the truth. But I wasn't always like this. I was once a wild-eyed, bright boy that runs around a lot with no care in the world. I was once a little rabble rouser who takes pride in disturbing the whole household.

When death comes calling there is virtually nothing we can do about it. It may come in different forms or patterns. It may sneak in and take a life in cold blood or it may toy with its prey for a while in the form of illness, teasing recovery along the line, online to snuff life out of the person when one least expected. That was the route death took in snatching my beloved sister from me.

The bond between a brother and his immediate elder sister is always strong. It's even stronger when the two are the only kids of their parents. Instinctively, females are groomers and they start doing this even from a very going age. My late sister was just about 3 years older than I was but that doesn't stop her from looking after me like she was my little mum.

At the age of nine, I lost her to the cold hands of death on a cold Sunday afternoon. She had been sick for a month. That afternoon, she was in a good mood and my six year old self lay next to her, gisting and laughing with my closest pal. I never knew she regained her strength momentarily just to bid a proper farewell to us all.

After her death, I became a quiet and gloomy child. She was the one person I played with the most. She was my playmate, my bestie, my big sister and my defender. Whenever I go find the trouble of the other kids, I'd run frantically towards her knowing she would defend me. And she never failed to do that. She never stopped defending me till when she could no longer do that. After losing her I withdrew into my shell.

While people around were consoling my parents who just lost a child, everyone forgot about me, the little brother. They assumed I was too little to understand what was happening - and maybe I was. But when I started my own grieving, it never stopped. Even till this day, I still carry the pain - and her pictures- with me, wondering what life would've been like if she survived that illness.

All I can do is wonder now; all I can do is imagine. Despite how far back it happened, I'm yet to get over the hurt. The pain just won't go away.

Rest on, beloved sister.

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