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June 14th , 2025

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WINFRED KWAO

2 days ago

MY SISTER'S LAST WORDS STILL ECHO IN MY HEART

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I was sixteen, sprawled on the living room floor, doodling in a notebook while the TV hummed in the background. My sister, Lila, burst through the door, her cheeks flushed from the autumn chill. She tossed her scarf onto the couch and said, “You gotta live like the world’s on fire, kid.” I laughed, thinking she was being her usual dramatic self. But those words? They stuck. They were the last ones she ever said to me. A week later, she was gone—taken by a car accident that still feels like a bad dream. Have you ever had a moment that replays in your mind, uninvited, shaping everything you do?

There’s this ache, you know? It’s not loud or sharp anymore, but it’s there, like a quiet hum in my chest. Lila’s words weren’t just a quirky one-liner; they were a command, a plea, a spark. I carry them like a compass. Back then, I was shy, content to hide in my sketchbooks, afraid of messing up. Lila was the opposite—bold, messy, alive. She’d drag me to open mic nights, force me to sing karaoke, or make me dance in the rain when I’d rather stay dry. Her words keep pushing me, even now, to step into the fire of life instead of watching from the sidelines.

Take last summer, for instance. I was at a crossroads—stuck in a dead-end job, too scared to chase my dream of opening an art studio. I’d sit at my desk, doodling on sticky notes, feeling like I was betraying that sixteen-year-old me who promised Lila I’d live fiercely. Then one evening, I passed a street performer playing a violin so passionately it stopped traffic. I thought, Lila would’ve danced to this. So, I quit my job the next day. Risky? Sure. But I rented a tiny space, hung my paintings, and started teaching art classes. It’s not perfect—some days I barely break even—but it feels like I’m honoring her. Like I’m keeping her fire alive.


Living like the world’s on fire isn’t always grand gestures. Sometimes it’s small, like trying a new recipe and laughing when it burns, or saying yes to a last-minute road trip with friends. Other times, it’s harder—like forgiving someone when you’d rather hold a grudge, or speaking up when your voice shakes. I think of Lila when I’m scared to take that leap. Her words remind me that life’s too short to play it safe. Don’t you ever wonder what you’d do if you weren’t afraid of failing?

I’m not saying it’s easy. Some days, I miss her so much I can’t breathe. I’ll see someone with her wild curls or hear a song she loved, and it’s like losing her all over again. But those words? They’re my anchor. They pull me back, make me choose courage over comfort. I talk to her sometimes, in my head, asking if she’s proud of me. I like to think she’s grinning, saying, “Kid, you’re finally getting it.”

What’s the fire in your life? What’s that one thing—or one person—that pushes you to live a little louder, a little braver? For me, it’s Lila’s voice, still echoing, daring me to burn bright. I’m trying, sis. I’m really trying.




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WINFRED KWAO

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