My sister died on June 12, but that's a who, not a what.
The hope I could have a healthy relationship with her. It was the same as with my mother. I mourned, and still do, mourn what could have been.
The trust I had in who I thought she was died. There were so many things I thought she was doing, but now I know it was never true. Well some parts, maybe. I'm not a naive person and I'm not really trusting, either, but I couldn't believe some of the things I discovered. Things that will be between me and her until I join her.
Hurt also died. Not the hurt of my grief - that is still an oozing, crusting over scab. Some of the emotional hurt. She would lash out if she got backed into a corner. This started as a child. We had some doozies of fights. When I could drive, off I would go.
What didn't die was the peace I have. I am really okay she is gone. I don't like it. I don't like she didn't make it to 45 years old. I don't like she didn't take care of herself. I don't like she didn't take care of the house. I don't like she didn't take care of our father. Some people will argue that point, but it is unfortunately true. She took care of some stuff.
But I have peace and faith. And that will never die.