'When my sister received a terrifying diagnosis, I made a life-changing decision.'

To my sister. To my Lil,

Six years. Six years it's been since they wheeled us into the operating theatre side by side. Our sweaty hands firmly clasped, we made a daft reference to Titanic as Mum and Dad watched on, concealing their fear with smiles and fogged glasses.

Six years ago, I gave you a part of myself because seven years ago I nearly lost you completely.

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As a young girl you were always the life of the party. Shirley Temple ringlets, Barbie doll in hand (always half-naked, head shaved) and absolute mischief in your eyes. You were trouble but completely unafraid. Even at a young age, you were courageous and bold where I was calculated and creative. It's funny now to think how we've always been a perfect match.

It was a gift watching you take these traits and letting them flourish to build the walls of your future life. Your mischief turning to inimitable humour, your courage turning to resilience and fearlessness to the most incredible humility. Your path was set and what a beautiful path it was.

Watch: The unspoken, heroic acts of sisterhood. Post continues after podcast.

And then you fell sick and like your foot missing the final step in the dark, everything stopped. The laughter was replaced with fear and the joy with grief. I couldn't fathom a life without you. My other half. I fell asleep every night asking the same question over and over. Why you? Why not me? It haunted me. It still does.

So, I made a decision. The easiest decision I have ever made in my life: to give you back yours. When they tested me to be your donor they said what we had was rare. That our organs were the most compatible match for each other. As if we needed to be told.

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Six years ago, they wheeled us into that operating theatre, and I gave you my kidney. We woke up groggy, made another silly reference to Titanic (I didn't let go, Rose) and our lives began again.

Today we sit at the beach on a scorching hot day and trace our scars with pride. Our trauma and our hardship not defining who we are but fueling our desire to be whoever we want to be.

So, I ask you, my Lil, to take care of my precious gift. Look after her as I have tasked her to look after you. Love her as I love you and be as proud of her and everything she represents as I am of you.

Always, forever,

Gracie

Listen to Grace read her letter in full: 

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