In a few weeks it will be the anniversary of the death of my aunt Mary. I have written here about her before; she helped raise me in that my parents shared a house with her and her husband. Her daughter is the closest I will ever have to a sister.  The kind that I talk to almost every day, stay up late waiting for, eat unhealthy food with, and sing songs badly and too loud for no reason other than because the car windows are down. We both just went through chaotic, emotional weeks of great change. While processing on the phone, we only barely touched at…