02/03/2026
• Always in my heart •
September 2025
[Trigger warning: Loss and grief]
When I returned home after my sister’s funeral on July 22nd, I took a self-portrait.
Something in me needed to witness the moment — to capture who I was in the aftershock of loss.
In September, I turned it into a drawing.
I intended to share it on her birthday, October 11th.
But when the day arrived, I couldn’t. I was not ready.
I am now.
My sister’s funeral was beautiful — sacred in a way that felt almost otherworldly.
In the stillness of the church, just before I walked up to read from The Prophet, something opened.
Time dissolved. The veil felt thin.
I experienced a connection so profound, so undeniable, that it changed me.
I had never known anything like it.
In that moment, I understood — not with my mind, but with my whole being — that our bond did not end when she left her body.
It transformed. It expanded. It became infinite.
When the ceremony ended, I did not feel only grief.
I felt peace. A deep, anchoring peace.
And gratitude — overwhelming gratitude — for having walked this earth at the same time as her.
For having loved her. For having been loved by her.
I wish she could see the woman I am becoming and the life I am building now.
I believe we would be closer than ever.
Because now I see her clearly — beyond misunderstandings, beyond human limitations.
I understand her heart. I understand her journey.
And I know — with a quiet certainty — that she has sent me blessings.
Gentle signs. Strength when I needed it most.
Thank you, my beautiful sister 🤍
I love you beyond distance, beyond time, beyond this life. 🌬️🤎✨
You are still so deeply loved.
So deeply missed.
By so many.
Love,
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