I keep oscillating between moments of joy and grief. I never got to come see you at your new place, or show you pictures of mine. I had planned to come see you the day you passed, but I was too late.

But I remember how much I loved swim days and sleepovers at your apartment. Adventures, museum outings, and cousin dates crammed in the back of your car. I remember thinking you were the most high-tech person I knew because you had a flip phone. I remember feeling ~super sophisticated~ having tea and cookies while you introduced me to quality British TV. I remember you desperately trying to clean me up in a restaurant bathroom that time a waitress dropped an entire tray of drinks on my head (then subsequently having to explain to my mom why my hair was all crunchy when we got home). I remember how very exciting and grown-up it felt to fly on an airplane for the very first time, just me and my sister, to come visit you in Phoenix. I remember regretting letting you give me at-home highlights in high school. I remember you sneaking us over to a slot machine in Las Vegas (when I was maybe 15) to pull the lever and so I could say that I “gambled.” I remember the pride in your voice when I told you I was going on a trip, by myself, just because I could, because that’s the kinda stuff you did.

My whole life, I remember you being 100% about whatever thing I was into at the moment, always excited for me and in my corner.

You were simply the most fun and awesome aunt that ever was. I wish we had more time. I love you and I miss you.