Eulogy for my sister

These are the things I'm going to miss about my sister.

Laughing. Not normal laughing.

Heart-stopping, gut-aching, eyes- streaming laughing.

About something nobody else finds funny.

Triggered by nothing more than a look or a word.

Often late at night, over the phone.

It's a sister thing.

Selfishly - having a witness to my life.

To call her, recount an incident from our past,

and know she was there - to confirm my reality.

I didn't make it up.

To be on my side.

Ocean swimming, naked. In the winter, at daybreak.

Exchanging looks at the mutual sight of a baby

without socks or a hat.

Or being bottle fed.

The way she spoke to dogs in the street.

Being grandmothers together.

Her magnificent Christmas fruit cakes.

The way she fought for me.

Put people in their place who questioned my choices in life.

Her fierce loyalty for things and people she loved.

She'll always be with me.

We were cut from the same cloth.

Sculpted from the same block of marble.

Cradled in the same womb.

I'll remember her always

when I eat a ripe fig

pat a cute dog

or see a brown chook.