The Impact of Celebration of Sisters: It Is Never Too Late To Grieve

“Grief does not define me; grief is part of me.”
 
This quote solidified the strongest revelation in my grief journey and magnified with the publication of Celebration of Sisters: It Is Never Too Late To Grieve (COS). The deep conversations ensued on opportunities provided to share my story on podcasts, speaking engagements, and author talks, afforded me to learn and grow into the feelings and emotions I kept closed for decades about my grief and the impact on my life. I am grateful to the individuals who allowed my voice to be heard in the hopes to help others in their grief process.

I took the journey after thirty years to grieve my beloved sisters Margie and Jane and went into deep therapy. The daunting process of repeating over and over the horrific details of their deaths, forced me to remember details not necessarily important, but jogged memories. The thought of lost memories haunted me. I shed many tears. For another exercise I looked at photos of Margie and Jane that I had shunned for years. I recalled precious times together. I learned that I will never remember every detail. Does it matter what was Jane’s favorite ice cream flavor or Margie’s favorite color? The clarity and solid memory is the love.


I took on the role of caretaker for decades and placed my needs and grief on the back burner. At age twenty -five, I grieved my sisters but unable to understand grief or how to express my feelings. I learned in grief the emotions are universal, individual journeys are unique, even in families. Communication lines are broken. The instant we lose our loved one our lives change.

I coped by putting up walls around me. Afraid to get too close to someone, I may lose them. I grieved the loss of two sisters, and the trauma of Margie’s illness for twenty years. I felt alone. Writing my memoir and being vocal is like a child who learns to walk, first crawls, stands, takes a few steps, walks, and then runs. There is a community of individuals who speak my language. I am grateful I can reach out when I feel the need.

Talking and sharing is still difficult. I pace myself. I inherited from my father the gift of public speaking. Little did I know I too possessed the skill. When you are passionate about a topic, it exudes. Writing became a tool to express myself and go deeper into myself and my grief. One piece I still struggle with is making peace with the regret for not doing the work on grief earlier. I repeat I did the best I could. My head tells me one thing, my heart another and the two do not meet. As an introvert, groups are hard for me. It took me time to embrace what works for me and find tools and resources that fit my needs, a smaller setting, or talking one-on-one.

​Part of the process of therapy focused on restoration, taking care of me. Skating won the prize. On the ice, my meditation, joy, and passion, I turn off- glide across with the breeze in my hair and recall the fondest memories of Margie and Jane–the three of us skating together.

I often wonder if the challenges and tragedies I faced, shaped the woman I am today. Would the shy, insecure, middle sister who preferred backstage, have the guts to speak or perform on the ice in front of a large crowd? Would I serve on the Board of Directors of the COPE Foundation? Would I meet new wonderful new people from the various arenas as I broaden the horizons in my life?

Grief is a part of me. There will be days of tears, there will days of joy, there will be days of sorrow, there will days my heart hurts I can’t breathe, there will days of elation, but the common denomination of all the emotions is love. Margie and Jane are forever beside me and imprinted in my heart.