Four years ago today, my sister, Diana, died.
Since then I wrote a collection of essays on mourning in great part to deal with my grief. Yet, here I am still feeling the grief. It is not that I want it to go away. It is difficult to separate grief from affection, from missing a person.
On some level, mourning comforts. It tells me how much I loved her. How much I cared for her.
Grief is also, to me, about all the things I didn’t tell her, all the things we won’t get to do together. About how she will always be in my heart.