1991.

Dear Darling Sister,
My parents don't talk about you.
I know your name, and I know you are not here.
I do not know your birthday, not anymore. I do not know why you did not grow up to ask stupid questions of my mother, and borrow my make up and sneak out of the house on friday nights to see your boyfriend. I do not know why you didn't grow up to become a doctor, or a hairdresser or a teacher.
I do not miss you.
I do not know you, Alexandra. I do not understand the tiny red face, too tiny - I do not see why you were not breathing.
I discovered you today. I discovered you again. I was looking for photos of us, of me. My childhood is all mixed up in what you were not, my dear.
I wish you could read this, I wish you could know me. I wish you could understand.
I've always imagined you older - but there are pictures.. I didn't think there'd be pictures. That tiny face, those small, never to struggle arms. Never to hold my mother, never to hold a friend, a boyfriend, never to swing at the park outside our house.
I think they ended you. I think you were misfigured. I think you were going to die anyway, but they had to do it. I think something happened that they weren't ready for.
Sister, I'm sorry.
I could give my life to you.
If I knew where you lived, I'd wrap my life up in bits of string and newspapers from 1991 - I'd give up everything for you.
You are what they hoped for. You are the oldest of us. The youngest memory I can conceive of my parents.
A shadow that will forever come first.
You had a middle name. You had a face - and a heart. I hope wherever you are, that tiny heart can still love.
Because I will love that idea of you, Alexandra. I will love the red-black face and crumpled body. The quiet eyes, the bald head, the eyelashes and the heart you have, somewhere.
And in those moments, when it becomes too hard to be me -  I will try to live for you.
I will give you a chance to live. You deserve that.
I will remember you, our first.
I will remember you, our Alexandra.

Yours, upon discovery,
The third sister.