My Sister’s Death

The Linley Sisters by Thomas Gainsborough

About a week and a half ago, my phone rang early on a Saturday morning. I didn’t quite hear the name or recognize the voice on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, who is this?” “Timon.” “Timon!” I replied with excitement. Then my heart sank. Timon is my nephew, and he had never called me before. I knew in an instant that my sister had died.

She was ten years older, and somewhat of a mother figure to me. She was a generous and good-hearted person, and helped me at key times in my life in ways my mother couldn’t. But we were never emotionally close, never had that sister bond I so longed for, where we could share our inner feelings with each other. Understandable, given that there was no real intimacy in my family.

While I was serious and always digging for the deeper meaning in life, she was fun-loving, enthusiastic, and always joking.  One thing she took very seriously was teaching. She taught elementary school for thirty years and was an outstanding teacher. However, she coped with difficult feelings through denial and avoidance.

Ten years ago, she cut me out of her life. We lived in different cities, and I had called to wish her a Happy New Year. During our phone conversation, out of the blue, she started expressing a lot of anger about things our mother had done, and then hung up on me. I called her back, and she cursed at me and hung up again. I figured she was projecting Mother on to me, and so I waited a few hours before calling her back.

This time, without any explanation as to why, she told me she never wanted to see or talk to me, “Don’t call me, write me or try to contact me in any way, ever,” then hung up again. That is the last time we spoke.

I’m sure there were many things she had a right to be angry with me about. I was no saint. After all, we came from the same dysfunctional family and I had my issues. But I understood it was her way of coping, forgave her, and moved on with my life. A couple of years later I tried calling when my brother was in the hospital and close to dying. I left a voice message. She did not respond. My brother tried calling her from the hospital, she never called him back. That shocked me, and I did not try to contact her again.

I have been surprised by the depth of my grief over my sister’s passing. I was sad when my mother died, but I had already done a ton of therapeutic work processing my relationship with her. Her death, after years of living with Alzheimer’s, was a relief. Four months later my father died from a stroke. I was very sad, but I also deeply grateful that I had been able to develop a better relationship with him during the final few years my mother was in a nursing home.

The loss of my sister is different. I feel it in the cells of my body, as if I am releasing something so long held that the release of tension is exhausting; and I have cried a lot. I understand the complexity of it given my relationship with her, and I certainly want to learn from it. I am even more motivated to continue educating people about emotions so they don’t have to go through the ridiculous and unnecessary pain that results from avoidance and denial.

At the same time, the best thing I can do is to feel my sadness. Insights and understanding will come in time. But I am struck with the importance of having no agenda, to let my curiosity about emotions rest, and to allow myself the pure experience of my grief.  There is something quite beautiful in being present with it, and letting it take its course.

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1. Moving Through Grief to See the Light
2. Women’s Power, Pt. 1 – What we learn from our Mothers
3. Do You Love Yourself
4. Women: Reclaim Your Impact!
5. How to Be Free of What’s Holding You Back, Tip #2 Using Fear as a Resource