When she holds my hand,

I feel your touch.

When I look at her,

I see your eyes.

It’s something I find comfort in.

She holds your presence.

I see you in her.

In the way she laughs,

the way she cries,

and the way she babbles in an attempt to talk.

I realize that she is an extension of you.

A small, fragile one.

It’s been 2 years for me,

no time at all for her.

She will never meet you.

Or see your face,

hear your voice,

feel your hugs,

or steal your purfume

like I did.

But she will always be a part of you,

and thus a part of me.

I will love her like you loved me.

I may not have you at my side anymore,

but I realize now:

This last gift you gave,

in the form of my sister,

carries on your legacy.