If there was such a thing as magic or time travel or special powers, I would have used them all by now. If there is one thing in this world I could change, it would be for my sister Giselle to be alive.

Every year, the world stands still on February 13th. As my family and I gather, I take my place in the back seat, and we make a winding winter’s ride to the cemetery. I don’t say a word, as a matter of fact no one speaks, even the passing evergreens seem to droop with grief, and most times the radio clicks on just to drown out the silence. We usually have to shovel a path through the knee-deep snow to reach Giselle’s plot in a maddening sea of tiny grave markers. Placing flowers on her stone, we stand in silence, each taking a turn to kiss the cold granite and whisper, “Happy Birthday Giselle, I love you.”  My little sister’s death has not only shaped who I am but it’s put me on a course of who I am determined to become.

After Giselle passed, doctors performed genetic tests to investigate the cause of our tragic loss, only to discover that my mother had thrombophilia, which is an abnormality of blood coagulation increasing the risk of blood clots during pregnancy. If this disorder was discovered earlier on, my mother and my sister would have been taken care of ensuring a healthy pregnancy.

Knowing Giselle’s death could have been prevented with proper medical attention is gut-wrenchingly painful but it has also fueled my passion to use medicine in helping others. I refuse to let my little sister’s death be in vain. I refuse to sit back in my own pity watching other families taste the bitterness of our suffering. Our personal tragedy has inspired me to help others, protect others, and try to make a difference in my community. It is because of Giselle that I have put all my energy into pursuing a profession in the medical field.

On one Tuesday night, as I sat in the red seats of the large lecture hall of Touro Medical College, attending my weekly high school medical seminar, my mentor whispered to me, “Remember the world owes you nothing, if you want something, you need to work hard for it… If you wait for it to be handed to you, you will have a very long journey ahead of you”. These words seemed to echo off the dark walls of the auditorium and replayed in my head like a broken record. Immediately, I had some sort of recollection of the moment my family and I had found out that if we had been informed about my mother’s conditions earlier, my sister could have been alive at this very moment.

As an attempt for my young mind to dedicate my passion towards the medical field for Giselle, I started my own tradition a few years ago. Yearly, when the calendar hits February 13th, I sit by Giselle’s grave in the bitter cold and tell my little sister I love her and that I promise to put all my energy into helping individuals who need medical assistance. I can’t pinpoint when this tradition started, yet it has been our special moment ever since I can remember. After years of heartache and realizing that there is no magic solution or time travel, I have come to understand that there are special powers revealed when one is able to take a tragedy or hardship and use it as a fuel to their motivation. It has taken me time but the passing of my sister has put into perspective that each and every situation that one goes through in life has varying results, mine has only strengthened my desire to enter into the medical field; I am determined to keep my promise to my sister.