I’ve lost my sister. My best friend. My confidante. My second mum. My daily chat partner. Yes, everyday sister number 3 calls me between 12noon and 2pm, local time, depending on how long she has managed to sleep the night before in her home in London. When I’ve been out for lunch with family or friends, and the phone rings like clockwork, they too know it’s my sister number 3 or JayaAtta.

I feel hollow. A deep sense of loss. And, that doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. I’m sitting in front of my laptop wondering why I’m even writing this. I think, maybe, it’s to make sense of what’s happened.

My head is all over the place. I cannot stop thinking about my Sinnavan. It hurts too much. I also don’t want to think about her. I want to block out my thoughts. I cannot focus. At the same time, I want to talk about her. That hurts as well. Tears stream down. Like they are now.

I’m sad. I’m tearful. My heart physically aches.

How could sister number 3 have passed? But she has. She did on 26 April, 2026. She had undergone an emergency surgery for ovarian cysts. The operation was not completed because she suffered a ruptured bowel, that resulted in septicemia or blood poisoning, which then lead to her organs shutting down while she was in ICU. Gratefully, sister number 1, nieces 1 and 2, and niece number 1’s husband were with her when she passed.

My Sinnavan told me about her cysts on 16 April. But, only after sister number 1 informed me about it. She had known about her condition in early February after MRIs and blood tests. She didn’t say a word because she didn’t want me to worry about her. Of course, I will worry about her.

Before and since my mum passed, sister number 3 and I have had daily conversations about our mum, family, friends, life, death, the meaning or meaninglessness of life and the afterlife, if there’s such a thing. We concluded, inconclucively, particularly about life after death.

Anyways, in one of our many chats, we sort of agreed that there was no point telling each other if we contracted an illness or a medical condition. Why? We live so far away, hence what could we possibly do for each other besides fretting and worrying.  

To be fair, while I meant what I said about not telling, it certainly was not her prerogative not to tell me. I know it’s hypocritical. And, I totally agreed with her that I wasn’t playing fair. But, never did I expect this to happen. The ovarian cysts, had they been removed in February or March or early April, would not have, probably grown bigger and pressed on her internal organs. And, made it painful and difficult to eat, sit, drive and basically do much of anything.

I think she delayed her operation because her husband, brother-in-law number 3, had had an unscheduled operation in March. Caring for him took precedence. She’s always been too kind, caring, generous and thoughtful. I’m not just saying this, she has always placed others before her. Always. And, alas, now to her detriment and death.

She told me she was in pain. And, could only have soup. Whatever she ate, upset her violently. I really don’t know how long she had the pain, and whether she had done anything about it. Like arranging for an earlier procedure. Her operation had been booked for tomorrow. 5 May, 2026. Too late.

The first night after she had passed, just saying and writing it seems wrong, the darkness of my bedroom felt instantly oppressive. I couldn’t lay down on my pillow. I sat up, clutched my heart, and wanted to run out of my condo. I know it sounds dramatic but that’s what happened. 

The next morning, the loss of my Sinnavan hit me hard. I cry, yes, but never loudly. Even for my mum, the tears flowed constantly. But I never cried loudly. This time I did. They weren’t quiet, choking, smothering sobs. It was a continuous wail that made me shudder. Something inside me needed to almost howl, and I couldn’t stop myself. It was a very painful cry for my sister, whom I no longer have.  

This is a tragedy. My sisters, brother and family cannot believe or comprehend what’s befallen us. Her many friends and all the people who knew her, are shocked by her sudden passing.

I thought, just maybe, putting in words how I’m feeling might help a little. Maybe. I don’t know. What I do know is she’s not coming back. I console and convince myself, which works and not, that she is freer and happier where she is now.

So, so sad. I miss and love you loads and loads my Sinnavan.