When you lose a sibling, it feels like there will never again be a person who knows or understands you to the depths he or she did. There is an indescribable void, a chasm so deep and unrelenting it seems to swallow you.

At least that’s been my experience.

This month marks the eighth anniversary of my sister's death. Sonya, my only sibling, was four years my senior and enjoyed playing the role of big sis and second mom. Over the years, I’ve become painfully aware of the unofficial holidays, National Sisters’ Day and National Friendship Day — both observed on the first Sunday in August. These celebrations go hand in hand for me; Sonya was my sister and my best friend.

Though she's not physically here, Sonya still carries and keeps me as I try to navigate this life and world without her. I always feel confident that she's looking out for me, watching my back. I have wanted to find a way to express that sentiment for some time now.

If you know me on any level you know I have three obsessions: my nephews (my sister's children), journalism and Dave Matthews Band.

Every summer, I use vacation time to follow the Midwest swing of my favorite musicians' tour. What began as one or two shows annually with my sister has grown to eight to 10 some years. Beyond the Midwest, I've also seen them in Virginia, New York, Pennsylvania and Washington state.

This band — Dave Matthews, Stefan Lessard, Carter Beauford, Tim Reynolds, Rashawn Ross, Jeff Coffin and Arthur "Buddy" Strong — means everything to me. I've been lucky enough to meet them all. They are as kind as they are talented.

I love so much of DMB's music, but in recent years there's been one song that has quieted my tears enough so I could sleep at night, or helped rouse me from bed in the morning so I could make it to work. It's simply called "Sister." There is a line throughout: "Sister, you keep me."

Over the years, David — that's what I like to call him — has watched me sob from the rail when he performs that song. He has looked at me with sympathetic eyes and even offered comforting words. He could never know that it was my sister who agreed to go with me to his concerts in the early years, when no one else would. He could never know that a month before she died in 2011, Sonya encouraged me from her hospital bed to attend the Dave Matthews Band Caravan in Chicago, a DMB-sponsored three-day music festival, because she knew I was already grieving and needed to feed my soul.

I have wanted a tattoo with some of the "Sister" lyrics for a few years now, but I wanted Matthews to write them on me. That magical moment happened last month, just hours after attending my 100th Dave Matthews Band show at Alpine Valley Music Theatre in Wisconsin. Some would say the stars aligned. But I know that Sonya put Matthews in my path that day — because she keeps me.

The encounter between us was intimate; no one else was around. My dear friend Liesl and I spotted Matthews and his trainer as they were about to go for a run through town. He smiled when I called out "David" and said: "Well, hello there." We hugged. I introduced myself and reminded him we had previously met. He said: "I know," and something else so sweet, so endearing, but something I want to keep between us.

I told him about Sonya, how important "Sister" has been to me and that it would mean everything if he would write some of the lyrics on me. He humbly agreed, and repeatedly said how kind it was of me to ask and how honored he was to do it. He was amazingly attentive, asking me which specific lyrics, where on my body I wanted them and if I wanted to be able to read them.

"Yes," I said. "This is for me, to help get me through."

We talked about how he's watched me cry at shows during "Sister" — "I have," he said — and I was able to thank him for his presence in my life through his healing music. And just as when I first met him in 2015, he thanked me for being a fan. "I've seen you a thousand times," he said, gratitude in his voice.

Many fans think Matthews wrote “Sister” for his oldest sister, Anne, who in 1994 was killed by her husband in a murder-suicide domestic violence incident in South Africa. But in a recent interview, Matthews said the song was about his baby sister, Jane. In the same interview, Matthews said “Sister” is one of the best songs he’s ever written.

“It’s about my love of my little sister; a genuine thank-you to the universe for making someone who knows me so well,” Matthews told Vulture.

I understand that feeling. I crave that connection. People often thought Sonya and I were twins and expressed shock when they learned we were born four years apart. We were inseparable. And not a day passes that I don't ache to hear her voice and her laugh, and to be smothered by her hugs.

Grief is a fickle character. Some days I think I've gotten it beat. I've made such progress — I can get through a day, a week, even a month without crying at my desk; I can look in the mirror and smile instead of sob when I see her staring back; and I have even reclaimed my health.

That I now have a tattoo to remember her by, designed by the only person who could get it just right, means so much.

David John Matthews may never understand how his handiwork and his overwhelming kindness touched my soul. But I think he might. He shows empathy and compassion in many ways, including in how he treats his fans.

And in a moment of levity, after Matthews wrote the lyrics on me, he said, "I'll do my best here," and began signing his name. The thing is, I did not ask him to sign his name.

It's been a long-running joke among my friends and I that after 25-plus years of being a fan, I've never asked Matthews for an autograph. But when one of my favorite musicians in my favorite band decides to brand me for life, who am I to argue?

Thank you, David.

Email IndyStar columnist Suzette Hackney at suzette.hackney@indystar.com. Friend her on Facebook at Suzette Hackney and follow her on Twitter: @suzyscribe.