Two little girls
came into my life
years after you left it.
And sometimes
I watch them together
and wonder
what kind of big sister
you would have been.
Would you have laughed
at their little arguments?
Would you have carried
their favourite toys
back to them
when they dropped them?
Would they have followed you
from room to room,
determined to be included
in whatever
their big sister
was doing?
I look at Izzy
and Gabby,
at the little lives
still discovering
how the world works,
and I think about
everything
I wish you could
have shared.
They will grow up
knowing your name.
Not as a secret.
Not as a tragedy
that everyone
is too uncomfortable
to discuss.
But as their sister.
The little girl
who came before them.
The daughter
whose story
did not end
simply because
her life did.
I wish
I could have given you
each other.
I wish
I could hear
all three of my girls
laughing
in the same room.
But since I cannot,
I will make sure
they know
there has always been
another girl
in our family.
And that I loved
their big sister
long before
I ever knew
their names.
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