What I remember the most is just being scared. So so scared. The suddenness of actually losing a loved one, the one you’d never prepared for was too much for me. I remember falling to the floor and just begging God to please not let her be on that plane, to take everything I had, to take me instead. Just do.not.let her.be involved, because I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

I remember snatches of that day. Of a sister sitting up suddenly from the bed with horrible panic in her eyes reflecting the fear in my eyes, on my face, in the set of my limbs. Asking “WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?!” as I crashed into my bedroom and fell on my knees simultaneously screaming, praying and begging God. I remember calling a sister as she went out to look for our sister’s Christmas presents. Just before that, I’d been telling her not to waste too much money, our sister wouldn’t be able to use anything really pretty anyways because of her strict boarding school rules. I didn’t realise she wouldn’t be using much of anything where she was going.

I remember a sister running back home, she later told me she almost got hit by a car. I see a sister bursting into the room crying, panicked, begging God “NO!” even before I’d finished explaining what I’d heard about an accident. I remember the three of us, three sisters, our souls tied, our hearts palpitating as one… sitting in silence trying to understand where to go from here; how a tragedy so great could have befallen us.

I remember calling, calling, calling… and being unable to get through to my mummy and daddy. Finally hearing from Daddy at night and being terrified of the news the phone call might bring. I remember going into the kitchen to take the phone call and shaking all over. All over. So frightened, God please you can’t let the news be bad, don’t let the news be bad. I remember Mummy too broken to speak, Daddy unable to tell me. Daddy’s voice breaking. He said they couldn’t find her, they will keep looking. I remember going back and telling my sisters, their sister is missing,. The emptiness in my heart. Oh God.

I remember sleeping and dreaming she was found, safe, happy…alive. In my dream, there was a newspaper article reporting she was ok. “A survivor” they called her.

I remember waking up early the next day, unable to sleep. Finding a sister sitting alone crying in the kitchen, already accepting what I had refused to accept. As I sat there consoling her and telling her that our sister’s name means ‘good luck’ so God would have spared her. He must have.

I remember hearing from Daddy later, about 10 or 11 saying “…be strong, your sister has died, be strong for your sisters.”

How?

I remember walking into my room and telling them.

“Our sister is dead.”