I am mourning, not for the reasons you make think but I am mourning. She was beautiful, funny, stubborn and at times a complete bitch. I loved her, when I didn’t like her, I fought with her for years and snuggled her through the tears we caused each other. She and I weren’t always close, but I loved her. 3 years ago my sister came to me with a secret. She was no longer my sister. She was my brother. He cut off all of his hair that I spent hours braiding, wiped off the makeovers I had been doing for a decade. Cried off his perfected winged eyeliner, and told me his new name. He never looked back. It happened at a party. I was the first to meet him in our family, making me the first to say goodbye to my sister that I would never see again. I didn’t know who he was going to be as my brother. I didn’t mourn, I just stood beside him in support because he was scared to tell the rest of our family. Three years have past, and it never hit me. She’s gone. She’s never coming home, she’s not coming back to be an auntie to my little one, she’s not going to cry with me over stupid things, she’s not going to pretend she knows how to braid my hair, she’s not going to share clothes and shoes with me ever again. When she became he, I didn’t know who he’d be. He’s different. He’s not my sister, and sometimes he doesn’t feel like my brother either. He is more himself than I ever saw her. He looks comfortable in his own skin, he radiates confidence. I am proud of him, but I miss my sister.