My sister was killed in a drunk driving accident

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Walking to the beach with my umbrella still on top, I watched the water
rippling on the rocky shore and thought to myself…I don’t belong here. I don’t fit in. I want to go home.

I went to the beach to remember her. I wanted to say that to myself and to her.
But it was too late.

The rain was pouring down on the hot sand from the evening sun. I ran to the
house, grabbed my umbrella and went home to die with it by my side.

I saw my sister through her eyes for the last time. You could see my sister’s

eyes with her long braid that she tied up in a simple top knot. I saw her
smile. I saw her hands and her feet. I saw her laughing. But most of all I
saw the smile on my sister’s face when she heard the news that was relayed to
her. She knew she had been killed. I had no idea of the agony she went through
when it was revealed that a girl like her, who was so different than the rest of her family, would have died due to the
accident. She was happy. She couldn’t be happier. She told me she loved it
when she got the news of her death and how beautiful she had felt when she
found out her car was damaged and she was told there would be an investigation.

I saw her in spirit. I saw her smile even when she knew she was going to die.
I saw her eyes. I saw the tears rolling down her face. I saw her smile even
when she knew of her end.

I saw the smile my sister gave me when I told her how nice it was that we met
on the beach to tell her how we felt when it was announced that she died. I saw
her hands. She wasn’t a good looking little girl who had married a handsome
man. She would come from a poor family. She and her parents were trying to send
the last child off to college and even though it was her own idea to go, she
couldn’t let go of the family business. He was one of the main managers of a
warehouse in Shanghai. And he was the one who encouraged her into the job that
she loved. But I knew they weren’t in love. They had a good marriage where
they saw each other every weekend and she supported his plans. That night when
he died in a drunk driving accident, she saw her last chance to live. She had
her license, was only twenty-one and was in a relationship with another man. So
he took away her opportunity. I saw her standing on the beach crying. I saw the
tears rolling down her beautiful face and my heart broke with a horrible pain.

Her body was found the next day. She was lying on the beach. I saw her hand
still holding her umbrella. Her hands were still in the sand. Her head was
crushed down by the rocks. Her eyes were open wide and she was still smiling.
She was watching the waves rolling down on the beach with her hands still in
the sand.

Now I am alive and alive is being in the same place that I am today. The same
place that I had to go to the beach to remember my sister. I am walking on the
same rocky shore that my sister was on when she was murdered. I am still living
in the same apartment where I had to sleep with the sound of the sound of the
harp playing in the background of the room. I am still working at work. I am still
living with my loving wife. I am still walking on the same beach where I saw my
sister on that terrible night. And that beach is still the same. And the
harp still plays in the background of the room. The same summer breeze still
blows the cool breeze my sister could feel.

My sister is not buried in the same grave. She is buried in the beach. And
when I see the beach from my balcony each day, I still hear the sound of the
harp playing.

Today my sister will never be buried in her home town. She will not be buried
in her family cemetery. She is not buried in a grave lined with concrete or
cement. She will not be buried in a garden and the stone markers will never
tell her why she died. She is buried on the beach where she lived. She is
buried in the palm trees where she played. She is buried in the golden sands
where she loved the sun and the sea. And it is the same sand that she loved
when she died. It is the same sand that she died on and it is the same
sand that will never be enough because she is now gone.

So I will never forget my sister. And I am not scared to die.

When my sister was murdered, I was given the choice to work for MI6 or die
for my country. That is the choice that I took.

I am free to stay here. I am free to live a normal life here. I am free to

feel the heat on my face when I walk in the sun and the cool breeze on my

cheek when I hug the beach. I am free to walk the sand of the same beach

where I saw my sister smiling. I am free to live in the same apartment where

I saw my sister crying because she knew she was about to die. I am free to

live with my wife in a house where I will be able to talk with her. I am free

to live in Tokyo City knowing I will be able to find my sister’s grave. I am

free to be the agent I am. I am free to become the soldier that I am. I am

free to be the man that you can’t forget. I am free to live a happy life with

my family. But I will never be free from the memories I will never get to hold

onto when I die.

I am not afraid of death. But I am afraid of losing someone.

My sister lived her whole life. But I am tired to remember my sister.

I am so happy to be alive. It’s been over a year. I am alive. But I am

sad to be alive.

And I am still living with the thought of my sister when I walk on the rocky
beach where I saw my sister smiling.

I am happy that I am still alive. It’s been over a year. I am alive. But I

am so sad that she is not.

I have the perfect life.

I have my wife. I have a wonderful family. I have everything.

I have my life.

I am free.

I am free.

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