I’m told that my sister was beautiful, bold, vibrant, and full of energy. I hear that she had the most gorgeous auburn hair. People say she was braver than any soldier who has ever lived with the grace of a thousand princesses. You see, I don't really know anything about this girl, and for a while I rejected any previous existence of her. But her name is Kyra. I know that now. She died from cancer in her brain that doctors say is rare when she was almost two years old. I never knew my sister. I was born two years later. People and Doctors say lots of things that I don't understand and talk about what kind of cancer she had, how rare it was, and how the doctors didn't diagnose it right while she was alive. But I don't care. Doctors, and people who think that they're doctors can talk to me all they want about my sister's statistics. I don't care. She's dead. People who knew my family with my sister talk so fondly of all of them and I love that. I love that they were loved and I love that she was loved, but I hate how I could never love her. This isn't a blessing that I never had to experience the grief of her loss; this is the story of how the terror of cancer doesn't stop even when it's over. I have a little scar where my sister had her port implanted and I like to think that I have a part of her right there, like soul sisters or something equally as mad. But this is all I've got. I can't even imagine how hard it was to lose my sister. My family are the strongest, toughest, and bravest people that I will ever know and they were hurt. No one should hurt like that. St. Baldrick's is stopping that hurt. Research is what makes for an accurate diagnosis which my sister never had. Research makes cures happen. Research is expensive so St. Baldrick's funds it with the money we raise at head shaving events. I've shaved my head twice now. I'm a teenage girl and I regret none of this. Not one lock. When I was eight years old I raised nearly $5,000. When I was thirteen I raised over $12,000. I'm sixteen now. And I am shaving my head again on March 1st. I don't care if you donate to me as long as an effort goes somewhere. Maybe it's not money, maybe it's support, maybe it's volunteering, or maybe even spectating. Every bit counts. I miss my sister terribly and I love her even more. Cancer has hurt us and probably everyone you know. Let's save kids. Let's be heroes.