Family stuff happened and those wounds in you festered and festered. No one knew at the beginning. You hid it well under your sleeves and at the back of your eyes.

Before it all happened, I sometimes looked at you and thought that this would happen to you. It is the way you used to hold your emotion. It is as if you were full to the brim with it, but you forced it down, shoved it into a box  and hid it away. It was strange, but I was too young to understand.

And then, slowly but surely, it took you over. You were so young. In my worst nightmares I imagined finding your lifeless body. I couldn’t wake you up. You wouldn’t wake up. My darling sister, even now I still imagine your cold body.

How can such a deathly and frightening disease exist? You wasted away. Your cheeks were concave, and you didn’t even have to bend over for every bone of your spine to be visible. Your sharp wit and intelligent mind dulled. Your eyes were dark holes in your face. They were so empty. You slept all afternoon and night. I would lay my cardigan over you so you wouldn’t get cold. But I don’t think it made a difference. You were lost to us, floating in some different universe with no anchor or thread holding you to us.

And then you tried to end it all. Multiple times. When I think about it, I blame you sometimes. But I know that the blame is not really towards you. It is towards me, of course. I am your sister. I should have been your protector. Is it OK if I say that I couldn’t really do anything but stand there and watch it run its course? Or is that just an excuse?

You are my best friend, even though I am not always yours. I wish I would be kinder to you, but I probably will always hold some of myself away. Maybe I am punishing myself. I don’t know. No one can say it didn’t take a toll on all of us.

You probably don’t remember, but we were going to the corner shop together once. As we chatted, you were vehement that you were a failure. I asked you, what on earth were you a failure at? What life had you lived that you possibly could have failed? And you said: “I failed at life.” So what was the alternative, my dear? Death? I’m telling you, I lived those few years in the fear that you would be taken away from us by your own hand.

Even as I am writing this, I don’t know where to start or end. In my mind, it is such a mess. It doesn’t matter because you are well now. I have never seen someone work harder. You are radiant and beautiful and clever and sarcastic and so special I couldn’t tell you how much if I tried. I hope you will always appreciate the battles you have fought and won. I hope you always believe you are a success.

I wish you all the happiness you deserve.

Love you, babe.

Your sister

• In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted free from any phone on 116 123. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international suicide helplines can be found at befrienders.org.

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