My 20th birthday was this Monday.

Growing up, I loved and hated my birthday. I was excited for the presents and cake, but every year I dreaded the day after.

You see, it wasn’t supposed to be just me. I have a twin sister. She’s younger than me and lived for a day. She died the day after we were born and every year we visited her grave.

Until the age of twelve I held so much hate and anger and grief in my heart for the sister I never had. I thought about death, her being all alone in the supposed afterlife, and every year I saw my parents cry.

Why her?

There may be a hole in my heart, but the wound is healed. This hole will never be filled and I am at peace with that. I visit her every year to clean and be reunited in a sense.

I love her for who she would have been, and I know she would have loved me too.