Eulogy for Sister

A eulogy about a sister who was the keeper of every version of you — the longest friendship and the most intimate loss.

My sister knew every version of me — the awkward teenager, the uncertain twenty-something, the person I am now. She was the only person alive who remembered the wallpaper in our childhood bedroom.

A eulogy for a sister defined by her fierce, uncompromising loyalty to everyone she loved.

She was fiercely loyal. If you hurt someone she loved, she would remember it for decades. Not in a grudge-holding way — in a "I will never fully trust you again" way.

A eulogy for someone who died young — honouring who they were while mourning who they would have become.

The hardest thing about losing someone young is mourning the future that won't happen. The career they'd have built. The family they'd have started. The version of themselves they were still becoming.

A short eulogy about the daily phone calls between sisters — the mundane conversations that held everything together.

My sister and I spoke every day. Not about anything important — about nothing, mostly. What we had for lunch. What the children did at school. What was on television.

A eulogy focused on shared childhood — the private world of sisters that nobody else could enter.

We shared a bedroom for thirteen years. Thirteen years of whispered conversations after lights out, stolen biscuits under the duvet, and a complicated system of blanket forts.