When I was little, my sister went missing. I was only three-years old, so I don't remember much. I know from the stories I was told that she was an amazing person. Sadly, something happened and she started to do drugs. One night she went out to see her friends and she never came back. The investigation after she disappeared went nowhere. The cops said it was a cold case and stopped looking for her. People called in and said they knew where she was, but they never found her body.

When I got older and realized that I would never get to meet her, I was very upset. I wondered why God would take her before I could meet her. Then I started to remember he had a plan in place. My anger slowly left. I stopped blaming God, but I still wonder what it would have been like growing up with her. Once I started high school, the loss of my sister really had an effect on me. I realized that I would never have my big sister to help me get ready for the big things in high school, like homecoming and prom. I realized that she wouldn't be at my graduation. I think about that every day. Some days I wish it could have been me, and other days I realized that wouldn't have been the best thing because of my mom. She calls me her “miracle baby" and says that I saved her from what happened because I gave her something to look forward to.

I always think of my sister. Her name was Kayla, and I made a promise to myself that someday I would name my baby after her. One of the stories that I was told was about the day she ran away from home. She and my mom got into an argument. She left with some of her friends, and that was the last day anyone saw her. All I can think about is what if I was older? Maybe I could have stopped her. That thought goes through my mind every day. The loss has affected me tremendously. I don’t trust people because I’m scared that if I get too close to them something bad might happen, like it did with her.

Some days I have good days; others are not the best. On the bad days I don't want to even get out of bed, but I have to. On those days I put on a fake smile and act like everything is fine, when it's not. Everyone thinks I'm this happy person, but I'm not. It is all fake because all I can think about is her and what I could have done differently.

On the good days, I try not to think about her. I know that sounds bad, but every time I think about her my mood changes. It just feels nice to be a normal person and not have to worry about the past. Sometimes people don't know about her, but if I’m talking with someone about siblings, it is hard to bring her up. I always say that I have two siblings, but, when someone asks about them, I have to say one is missing. They are always surprised, but stuff like this happens all the time, even though I wish it never did. I wish I could have one big happy family, but that will never happen for me.

In the end, her not being there taught me toughness and that it is important to cherish family. I will always tell people that I have two siblings. I’m so grateful that I have been told the stories about her. I will always cherish my family and how strong they are.

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