I never got to say goodbye.

A real goodbye that is.

She was my baby sister.

It should have been me.

I was supposed to be the one going out.

Not Amy.

Not my baby sister.


Amy was funny.

She was sweet.

She was my little sister.

And I never got to say goodbye.

Sure, I got to say goodbye in the hospital.

But that was not a real goodbye.

It was not real unless she could reply.

She was unconscious.

In a coma.

In a way, that was not my sister.

Amy was not the type to lay still like that.

She would have been up and chattering the next day.

As if nothing had happened.

But she did not wake up.

I never got to say goodbye.