Thank you for the gift of my sister

Tonight we had a business meeting. I had to leave. They were talking of 2 months from now, six months from now, one year from now. 2 years from now. The years were just flying forwards. Every glimpse I had of this future was terrifyingly sad without my sister. It started to add up in my head. 2 months, plus 6 months, plus 2 years. I couldn't do it. I can't always think of moving forward, when backwards is where my memory roams.
In my past, I have never ending images and memories of my sister. In my future, I have none. I ate my fish in sections. Divided into; holding back my emotions, then eating them.
I felt like I would throw up when my tears starting coming. The taste of fish with my own salted waters revolted me. Something was so sad about the way I ran down four flights to my parents.
I found my grandmother watching golden girls. A funeral episode. My grandmother asked "My dear, why are you crying? Is it because the funeral is so funny?"
My father was comforting. My father! My sister would think I was crazy to come here for comfort. I should be bringing comfort, not coming with my baggage- asking them to be filled with their strength.
Please G-d let me hold onto whatever they are riding on. It is so painful without their belief. I feel so lost and terrified.
Tasting tears and fish.
Over and over again.
Swallowing my tears. Eating fish whole.
My parents have faith beyond food. I have one belief. I believe that if I eat everything. Consume it all. I will be unable to feel anything but full.
My father explained that my sister is supremely happy. That only we are in pain. He talks from one gemara to the next. One rabbi to the next. One rabbi lost a daughter.
Another rabbi lost his only daughter.
My father doesn't say he lost his daughter. But, he did. My sister is somewhere. And she isn't here with us.
My father says only the other nations rip their hair out and scratch at their faces when someone dies. Only they scream. My father says Jewish people don't do that because we believe our loved ones are somewhere better.
Only the people left here are sad.

Is it OK that in my sadness I want to be surrounded by my siblings and parents? The people who feel the loss like a gaping whole. The people who we're loved and cherished by Adina. And now have this loss looming whenever love is felt.
My mother and father need to keep comforting me because essentially I'm hopeless. I tell my parents I'm angry at what happened. But that I know we can only fear and love G-d.
My mother responds. "We have to be thankful. We have to Thank G-d. That we had our beloved sister in our family. We have to say Thank you. "