You died six years ago today, but as Edna St. Vincent Murray wrote, "...I am not resigned."
I miss the way you felt when I held you in my arms. I miss your curly hair. I miss your smell. I miss you being a daily part of our family, the little big sister. You would have turned eight this month. I wish you could have been healed here, but I do not wish you back from heaven. I think of the day that we will be together again.