Remembering Carolla

There are lots of dates that stick in our brains: birthdays, anniversaries, national holidays. But the one I hate to acknowledge but can't ever forget is the night my sister died. It stays with me the way I can't shake a bad dream. Three years is a long time and not very long at all.

I ate a fortune cookie today that chided me: time heals all wounds. But it's not true. Grief and loss are non-linear. I wish it weren't so. But I can tell you from experience, it is.

My sister didn't want to be remembered as the one whose life was cut tragically short by cancer. If I can just get past losing her, I can pick up and help the world remember her the way she'd want it. Not starting at the end, but at the beginning.

Carolla, I'm trying.