Write to: Letters Editor, Wales on Sunday, Media Wales Ltd, Six Park Street, Cardiff CF10 1XR.
ing me for long enough she made me realise it was kind of normal after all I’d been through.
“When you go out, do you ever feel like you’ve left something behind, but know you haven’t?
“Or something is missing but you can’t figure out what it is? Or you can’t think of the right word but it’s on the tip of your tongue? As best as I can describe it, that’s what losing your sister is like in everyday life.
“You carry on as normal to everyone else, but everything you do it feels like you’ve left something behind, and that feeling when you can’t figure out what you’re missing lingers. It doesn’t feel right just carrying on like normal, but what else can you do? Your world may have stopped, but everyone else’s keeps going so you just gotta do the same.
“Sometimes I think back to March 2016 and wish I could go back, to those first days, weeks, months after her death. To you that may seem absolutely crazy, why on earth would I want to go back to that time? Well, to be honest, people cared then, they don’t now, not like then, anyway.
“Time has moved on, people have been without her in their lives too long to really care any more. I upload photos, tweets and maybe even why I started this blog to keep her memory alive. I feel like I need to keep people remembering her for as long as I can...I don’t want time to move on.”
In another post Holly recalls her last moments with Emily and at the Teenage Cancer Trust unit at UHW in Cardiff. She says she will remember her sister for ever:
“The Thursday before her death, I went to visit her, in denial at how ill she really was. With a nurse
They say your grief heals with time. They lied. Who even is “they”?
stood at the end of the bed 24/7. I sat, we chatted, I tried to ignore how overwhelmingly obvious the difficulty she was having to breathe.
“We talked about a TV production academy thingy she thought I should have applied to (now that’s what I’m studying at university), we talked about food as we always did.
“As I left the hospital ward I ran back (one of the four times I’ve ever run in my life), I squeezed her tight and we told each other we loved each other. A moment I will remember forever.
“I saw her the morning she passed away. But that Thursday is how I will remember her. My Emy.”
To read Holly’s blog posts visit www. rememberingemy.