Loss. Sorrow. Grief.
This page should be blank. She has died and she has been buried. I was there for both. Yet, it is impossible that my sister is not in the world. Why should this be so hard to take? Sometimes the loss is a shock, a jolt of adrenaline. Sometimes it is what it is now: a suffusion of gray bleakness seeping from my pores, my bones. It is neither regret…