I had a sister, and I mourn her 'cause I've lost my oldest friend. It feels so selfish to want her back, when clearly she is better off now. It's just that we were allies, so alike, and now that's gone forevermore.
But then dear sister, I remember your temper, your tantrums and pain. Your tears and heartache, they are among my first memories of you. Your struggles were so clear, so violent, so lonely. You spent most of our childhood angry with yourself and with the world.
Together we escaped into our own fantasy worlds and make-believe tales. We never played house, no. We were explorers, dinosaurs or wild horses instead. Always, I was in awe of your mind, so uniquely wired and brilliant and true. We were never bored you and me, there were always new worlds to discover and new games to invent, more books to read and escape into.
But as one of our favourite characters once said: It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live. And finally, you've found your truth. Your truth matters much more than my grief. If your truth means I lose my sister, then so be it my brother.
This is your time, and your truth. Even if that means there are more struggles and hardship ahead. It's time for me to realise that although I've lost a sister and even if I've never had a big brother before, I've always had you.