Dear Lucy—The Sugar in My Tea
My voice. My big sister.
I never told you, but I loved you.
This letter is both an apology and an acknowledgement.
You were the best sister I knew. In any lifetime, my soul would find yours a thousand times over—and love you even harder.
I'm sorry I never knew what you were carrying: the hurt, the pain, the shame, the broken dreams... a life interrupted.
I'll spend the rest of my life reminding Gabby how fiercely you loved her. She was never an accident. She was deeply wanted and deeply loved.
You were our warrior princess—so innocent, so pure—yet you carried one of the most stigmatized diseases of your time. You were Momma's good girl, the one who always tried to get it right. You deserved so much more than the hand life dealt you.
I'm sorry your story ended at twenty-five.
I'm sorry I never told you how extraordinary you were. I didn't have the words then. I didn't have the wisdom. I was only twenty-one, trying to navigate adult pain with a child's understanding. I wasn't equipped.
Today, I forgive that twenty-one-year-old version of me.
I hope every little birthday gift I sent you whispered what I didn't yet know how to say: I love you.
Because I did.
And I still do.
You will never be forgotten. As long as I draw breath, your name will be spoken. Your story will be told with compassion, not shame. You were never your diagnosis. You were never your mistakes.
You were Lucy.
My northern star.
The sugar in my tea.
And I will love you for the rest of my life.











