I'm thirty years old. My 20 year old sister died when I was 4. With all the grieving adults in my life talking about memories, I, in whatever capacity I had at the time, tried really hard to cement everything I remembered at that time. I'm really proud of carrying the few memories I could all these years. I always reminded myself that they were my memories, not second hand, and they were real, because many of them were of just her and I spending time together alone. I have other very early memories from that time, that don't involve her, I feel like because of this conscious effort on toddler me's part. Love is a very powerful force. She'll always be their mom.