Kait Hinckley

When I was given this opportunity to write about Kirsten, I was grateful to be able to say something; but now, trying to find the words, I realize there are no right words for a situation like this.

I lost my sister and close friend. It is something I have to live with every day. After the shootings in Virginia and Nebraska, people asked me if it brought it all back, the night waiting in the hospital, Kirsten's funeral. People hear about these shootings, but they move on, their lives don't change.

My reply is always the same: It is never gone.

I miss Kirsten every day. I think about those days in the hospital every day. I think about her funeral every day. I think about how I'll never get to do all the things big sisters get to do, like help her through breakups and heartache and boy problems, and do her makeup and hair for prom. About the nieces and nephews I'll never know, and things like her wedding day, and mine, with a major person missing from it.

These were all robbed from her and me, and that will never go away. Wanting so badly to talk to her when I'm having a bad day, I wish, more than anything, I could just wrap my arms around my sister and give her a big hug.

I miss being able to laugh with her about our inside jokes. I miss fighting with her about clothes and who gets to sit in the front seat. I miss seeing her messy bed hair sitting at the table when I go get breakfast.

I miss everything about her.

They keep telling me time will make this easier, make it bearable. I have not yet found it to be true. Kirsten is a year older, and it hurts just the same.