There’s a kind of love that’s deeper than words. The kind where, when they hurt, you’d do anything— anything —to take their place. You see them in pain, and somehow, you start apologizing… saying you’re sorry for what they’re going through, even though it’s not your fault. Because they don’t deserve an ounce of it. That’s the love I had for Empress. My sister. My best friend. My person. When she first fell ill, it didn’t seem serious. It was “just anemia,” they said. We all thought she’d be fine in a couple weeks— she thought so too. But weeks went by, and she didn’t get better. I remember the day she left home to get admitted. I cried so much, I made myself sick the next day. I cried with one prayer on my lips: “God, if anything is going to happen to her, take me instead.” And I meant every word. A world without my sister wasn’t a world I wanted to live in. We argued a lot—don’t get it twisted—but no one had my back like her. No one knew me l...
— A Letter I Wasn’t Ready to Write Someone asked me a question the other day. Simple words. Soft tone. “If you had the chance to see Empress again… what would you say?” At first, I smiled. The kind of smile that escapes before your chest realizes how much it hurts to imagine. For a second, I saw her. I felt her. I pictured myself running up to her, wrapping her in the tightest hug, and never letting go. The kind of hug that says, I’m sorry , I miss you , and please don’t go again , all at once. And then, in my mind, I broke down — not just crying, but sobbing in that raw, uncontrollable way grief knows too well. But when it came time to answer the question, I couldn’t. I stammered. My throat dried up. My words got stuck in a traffic jam of emotions I’ve never been able to fully explain. Because how do you speak to someone who was your life , your calm, your person… …when you know you only have a few minutes? When you know this imaginary ...
๐ค Grief Doesn’t Expire I’m just 28 years old, but I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything harder than trying to move on from losing my sister. And I’m not sure I ever truly will. Grief doesn’t expire. It doesn’t clock out. It doesn’t gently fade like they say it will. Some days, I wake up thinking I’ve made progress — like I’ve learned to carry the loss a little better. But then a memory hits, or a moment breaks open, and I’m right back at the start. For me, two of the biggest heartbreaks of my life collided. I lost Empress — my sister, my closest friend, the one person who made everything feel a little less heavy. And just a few months later, I lost the girl I thought I was going to spend forever with. A 7-year relationship, gone. And so I’ve been grieving two people at once. It’s like my mind takes shifts between them. One day, I’m mourning my sister, trying to push through the ache. Then out of nowhere, a video of my ex shows up on my scre...
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