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Jul 10, 2008 at 5:26 PM
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She died four years ago today. I don't really have any words for it. I haven't seen my sister for four years and I'll never see her again. She'll never be any older than sixteen. All I can do is put roses on her grave and stick photos in an album, lie on the sofa and stair at the TV and then the wall, and cry, and wonder when would be an acceptable time to pour a drink.

I'm supposed be writing something for a memorial we're holding on Sunday. But I don't have the words to do justice to her. I can't build her from words, or memories, or tears.

So here's something truly beautiful, to give you a glimpse of my wonderful, dancing sister:

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[this is good]

Dear Bokker,

2 years ago when I first began my blog, I "favorited" your post from August 6, 2006, titled, "in the space we leave behind". Your tender and beautiful account of holding your sister's hairbrush is nothing if not worthy of a memorial service, although perhaps it would be difficult to say without breaking down.

You've proven once again with the photos of her dancing that, "The remnants matter".

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