Honestly I am not sure what day my sister died. I know that sounds horrible. The truth is though, I didn’t find out until a year after it happened. That sounds even worse, I know.
I was actually told by phone in late March, 7 years ago. Doing the math, it was believed that she had died on March 13. A year or so, I looked it up on the Internet. There it was listed as March 3, 2003. Of course I know this website does have typos, so it is possible the original date was correct. And yes, I do realize I could order a copy of the death certificate, but that seems so morbid.
Honestly though, does the exact day really matter? In some ways no. It really doesn’t.
Secretly I think she was trying to die on my birthday. I know that sounds horrible too. But maybe she figured that then I couldn’t ever forget. Like I could anyway. The connection of sisters is very powerful. If you don’t believe me, read this, and note the date.
It doesn’t seem right that in a few days I will have lived almost a decade more than she did. But much of life is not fair, and certainly nothing of death is.