Dearest Shamwari, Howzit going man? Seems like yesterday but it has been two years since you checked in to heaven, two whole years of hell for me on earth. People talk about ‘moving forward’ or ‘moving on’, how can I move on from someone who has always been in my life, someone who shares the same DNA as me, someone who shares many of the same experiences as me? How can I move on from someone ‘who just got me’ and who was always there for me? You are everywhere – woven into my earliest memories; it’s you and I opening the back door of Tokwe flats looking for our missing, freshly baked gingerbread men which Dad had hidden. Our blue eyes searching, expecting to see two flaky figures legging it down Quendon Road - just like in the Gingerbread Man story. I see you in your children, I see you in my children, I see you in their features and their mannerisms. It is you who has inspired us and made us better people. I see you in the gifts you gave me. I talk to you first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An African childhood, a war, a father in the army - we have been built up and broken down, shaped and moulded through discipline and trained to find solutions to all problems with limited resources. If someone is trying to break into the house and you are on your own, you can’t rely on the police – likelihood is they will be out of petrol or get lost like the fire brigade did, so you shout for ‘Dad’, so the burglars think you are not ‘home alone’. If you have forgotten your key to your house and you have three hours to kill, then the garden is your pantry – you can forage on tree tomatoes, strawberries and cape gooseberries. If you have forgotten your other key, the bike lock key, then you carry your bike on one wheel for over four kilometres. If someone threatens you with a knife or screwdriver you leg it, just like the gingerbread man. We have always found solutions. Sports - apparently are good for releasing endorphins – Hockey, running and cricket - did that. Sports which require full concentration are good for taking your mind off things – Zumba and aqua aerobics – did that. Sports where stretching helps relax the muscles and aids sleep – ballet, Pilates and swimming - did that. Sports which are slower are good for calming the mind - yoga, meditation - did that. 13 hours a week of sports, a car boot full of sports equipment, TED talks, hypnotherapy, self-help books - I still haven’t ‘moved forward’, I still haven’t ‘moved on’. I even contemplate talking therapy but as you know I have always joked about PTS and deciding which of our African traumatic experiences we would cover first. Anyways, there is always free therapy with the convoy of friends I have made doing all these sports. Losing you has been like losing a limb – it has been life changing. But ‘It’s simps really, man’ – a sister can’t be replaced. I can’t ‘buy a new one’, as Richard would say when something got broken. I can’t ‘move on’ or ‘go forward’ without you, so you will have to come with me like Donna Ashworth’s poem ‘Take them with you’ says. I can carry you in my heart – so come with me on those trips, share those milestones and we will make new memories - together. As I said to you on the day you died, ‘Thank you Deborah, it has been an honour.’ Deborah, you are irreplaceable. Love and hugs, your No1 sister Anita.xxxx