I curled my arms around her tighter. She'd not waited, not faltered in her movements to hug me. To touch me. That, more than any words she could've said, showed me that she didn't hold me responsible for the pain I'd brought her.
She'd touched each of us. Touched our hearts. Our lives. I just hoped we could be just as good for her.
We sat there in a huddle on my bed. Everyone lost in their own thoughts. The weighty silence wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. If anything, I felt like it had been a long time in coming.
From a young age, my brothers and I worked to stay busy. To keep our minds distracted. Our bodies occupied so the loss didn't swamp us.
Our mother and sister had been the lights of our lives. They had been our people. When they'd been taken from us, ripped callously from
