BEING AN OLDER sister seems to be a dream come true. While most people actually in that situation might disagree, I've always thought it would be amazing.
Being a younger sister, I know what it feels like to have someone to look up to, and someone to teach me how to deal with growing up. I've always wanted to be the one looked up to. And I got to have that for eight days.
I know what you're thinking, and no, I was not part of a program. I was not a mentor or a camp counselor.
My younger sister was, in fact, my sister. We had the same parents, the same family and the same big, green eyes. The one thing we didn't have in common, apart from the fact that she was a baby, was our number of chromosomes.
I was in the midst of my first-grade year, and my older sister was in third grade.
It was quite an exciting surprise when my parents sat my sister and me down to say that our family of four would become a family of five.
That excitement turned to disappointment, however, as I sat in the car outside of the hospital one day after one of my mother's ultrasounds.
My parents turned in their seats to look at my sister and me in the back seat. After a long moment of silence, with tears slowly running down my mom's cheeks, they started to explain about a disease called Trisomy 18.
Trisomy 18, also known as Edwards syndrome, is a disease that causes someone to have an extra 18th chromosome.
It's a lot like Trisomy 21, or Down syndrome. The only difference is that Trisomy 18 is almost always fatal.
Most children who contract it end up dying before birth, with a small percentage living for a couple of days. My sister lived for eight days.
Isabella Luisa Benavides was born on Jan. 5, 2001, and died on Jan. 13, 2001. In those eight days, I obtained that connection that only sisters have.
With Isabella, I could hold her and look into her huge, infant eyes and feel that connection. It was the best feeling in the world.
When my mom called the family into her room on Jan. 13, I knew what she was about to tell us. Isabella had passed away, quietly and peacefully. I cried for what seemed like forever.
It seemed silly to me that I was crying. I had known Isabella for only eight days, why would it matter that much? But even now, when I think about Isabella, I have to hold back tears.
My sisters have taught me so much, and I know both of them will be with me for my entire life. And while it's easier to say I have only one sister when asked how many siblings I have, I'll always say two.
Even though Isabella is not physically here anymore, she's still with me, and will be forever.
Liz Benavides is a freshman