When people leave, there is always an empty space. They’re always present in your heart, but their seat at the table is always empty. When my brother left, when my dad left, when I left, it was all the same. The emptiness, the silence, everything was the same. Dinners were no longer the same, conversations had lost their quality, silence was often the ending of those conversations. Every party was different, every celebration was followed by the words “if they were here…” I got used to it just like I got used to living in America. I began to realize how much I love them. Now many years has passed since our last new year together as a family. My sister is coming here in March. She is getting ready to say good-bye forever, like I did five years ago. Except I didn’t know it would be forever…