
I was only 1 when she was born. She came into this world as a special body, for she was born with The Blue Baby Syndrome. Right from the start she beat the odds: everyone who knew what they were talking about claimed she wouldn't last much.
Her chest was opened and invaded at merely 45 days, a trial to repair what was supposedly defective. A "broken heart." "She'll die," they said, "Her journey here is a short one." She refused to.
Once again, at 3, her chest was opened. Once more, profetic predictions poured in: "She's not going to make it..." How wrong were the Mr. Know-it-alls... She made it.
A nearly perfect student, a lively and happy girl, a revolutionary and controversial teenager, a complete woman and lover...
Passionate about any and everything she put her heart into, she touched many lives.
Change for the better arrived everywhere she set foot in, and the truth was nearly always told by her luscious lips.
She survived two open-heart surgeries, innumerous illnesses during childhood, major love deceptions, two university degrees, a master's degree, heartbreaks, sorrows, losses and longings...
Our Sociologist, our nurse, our master, teacher... the union of two breeds and the center of our family. She was US.
And how can I compare this starting decade to those 15 minutes she spent in her bathroom, dying? Her broken heart gave in... How can I imagine even a second without her bodily presence in my life? How can I breathe clearly again? Where is my reason, the guiding voice in my head? How can I go through life without my Sissy, my friend, holding my hand? Why aren't I going to see her brood???
So, for me, 2010 is a hallmark. Not a celebration of youth, but the presence of death. Of pain. I will never, ever, be the same again.