It’s been two weeks. Fourteen days since I’ve felt her part of my soul burning hot. Three hundred and sixty six hours since she took her life.
That’s 21,960 minutes since time stood still. Her name was Sabrina and she was my sister. She died less than one week after celebrating her 44th birthday.
She didn’t leave a note, nor did she say goodbye. I’m not angry. I can’t be. The grief and sadness that envelopes me allows no room for any other emotion.
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