The death of my younger sister made me a terrible friend. I spent years trying to change
I remember my younger sister being able to pronounce only the first two syllables of my name, dancing with me to Bollywood songs and sleeping between my parents while I slept on the side bed. She was safe and three-year-old me was a good elder sister, happy to give her my place. I remember her saying her first word, smiling her toothy grin and being an assertive baby.I also remember—all too well—the hospital visits and my heart hurting. My two-year-old sister in a hospital bed throwing away all...