There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my sister.

Most of the time it's completely unconscious. I'll find myself looking at something, anything, and then the next thing I know I'll be remembering her. But sometimes it is conscious, and in those moments, I usually find myself trying to remember what her voice sounds like. If I close my eyes and really concentrate, I think I can almost hear it, but with each passing year, it's getting quieter and quieter, and I know what one day, I won't be able to hear it again.

Her death had been so sudden and shocking. A tragic road accident that had happened in the blink of an eye. We tend to underestimate how much can happen in such a short space of time, a whole universe can burst into existence in a millionth of a second and your entire life can change... and it did.

For the first year after her death I'd wondered around in a sort of shocked, fuzzy daze and whenever I told people that she'd died, I felt like I was blatantly lying out loud. I would hear the words come out of my mouth and they would surprise me. That's how hard the truth was to accept. It was almost as if my brain wasn't able to comprehend the reality of the situation. That she was really, really gone. That she no longer existed. That I would never see her again. She was nowhere. Perhaps our brains aren't capable of computing that kind of information, because then we would have to feel the pain. But it finally did kick in after about a year, and that is when the pain arrived too.

They say losing a child is the worst pain imaginable. That it is the worst thing a parent can go through, but they never think about the sibling. Because it's also the worst pain a sibling can feel. Not only do you lose someone you love, but you lose everything. After my sister's death it felt like I'd lost my parents too, which I had in a way. They were so far gone and wrapped up in their own grief that they almost forgot about me. I don't think they did it on purpose, it just sort of happened. I tried rebelling to get their attention, but that didn't really seem to work. They barely noticed, and I began to feel invisible in my own home, like I was also dead. A ghost that my parents could no longer see.

The pain I felt for a while was almost unbearable, it was physical. I thought about my sister and a cold hand felt like it reached into me and wrapped it's freezing fingers around my lungs pushing the air out. And it was hard to get it back in. Over time that feeling has lessened, except for two days a year, her birthday and the day she died. On those days it still feels like someone punched me in the stomach and that there isn't enough oxygen in the world to help me breath.

Two things got me through my sister's death- Jess and Depeche Mode. (Jess also tells me to keep my Depeche Mode analogies to myself, she's convinced I'll chase away every girl I date....... she's such a great friend!) But they did, and it's for that reason that they are so much more than just a band. They don't just make music, they sing the soundtrack to my life. They have a song called 'Black Celebration' and it was this song and the lyrics that carried me. Music has this strange, magical power to heal. It can lift you up and comfort you when no one else can. Some days all I could do was have that song on repeat and listen to the line over and over again...

"To celebrate the fact, that we've seen the back, of another black day'

And that was all I could do. The only motto I could live by. Every day was black, there was no light on the horizon, so every night when I went to bed, the best I could do was celebrate the fact that the day was over. The next day would no doubt be black again, and the next one, and the one after that too, and all I could do was be thankful that each day would come to an end. And then brace myself for another one. There's something so hopeful in that sentiment- but realistic too. That kind of pain doesn't just go away over night. So I put my earphones on and scrolled down to it....

The music and the lyrics rang out, washed over me, and as always, I felt better. I closed my eyes and was just about to try and get some sleep when I felt the pink magnetar once more, I turned.

She looked terrible. Worse than before, not sick, just...

I couldn't put it into words, but somethig was seriously wrong. I hope she hadn't thought she'd offended me. I watched for a while as she picked at her cuticle like a rabbit eating a carrot. She flipped through the magazine, twisted the metal can opener on her Coke until it snapped off and then faught with that old, crappy touch screen until it looked like a movie finally came on.

Suddenly her eyes lifted and he head started turning in my direction, I quickly snapped it back, but not before our eyes met for the briefest of moments.

I kicked myself the second I'd turned away. Why couldn't I be more normal and give her a nice smile, or friendly little wave. I was usually good with women... although, I'd never met one that intrigued me so much, or was having such a strange, overwhelming effect on me.

I closed my eyes again, vowing that I'd catch up with her at the luggage section and say...

What would I say exactally?

I had no idea. Hopefully it would come to me.

*Black Celebration- (Of course) This is from their latest tour, all of them over 50 years old now and still killing it on stage.