Thirty-three years ago today, on March 19, 1988, my sister died. She had fought a battle with cancer and lost. Nowadays she probably might have been a survivor, but with the treatment available in the 1980s, no.

I was living in Washington, DC at the time, and when I heard the news I got numb.It was my first real experience with someone dying. There had been family members who had died before her, but they had all been people more distant from me, no one in my litany of siblings, now lacking a name.

I left my apartment and wandered around downtown DC. The streets were deserted, at 2 or 3 AM people were long gone. A city, deserted.

I visit her grave every few years; my wife and I only live maybe 90 minutes or so from it. It has been several years since we were last there. I have no idea when the next will be

Nothing much else to say, I just had to make note of it, here.

She is missed.

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