I haven’t written in a few weeks. A column like this is personal – my sister Dara was dying and it was all I could think about every time I sat in front of my laptop but I didn’t feel ready to talk about it. As I write that sentence, even now I feel like putting the laptop away again, so I don’t have to face it. Dara was completely well until nine months ago when an unexpected diagnosis of incurable cancer threw all our worlds sideways. And I’ve experienced grief previously. I’ve lost both my parents – my dad died suddenly, we were stunned, totally unprepared and my mum was the opposite, the long goodbye of dementia – so I’ve walked this road before. But a sibling is different. They’re young, they’re your peer, they’re your oldest pal, your earliest playmate. They’re not supposed to die.