Loss happens to all of us. But how we grieve is up to us. Grief is about change. And for me, I choose to engage with my grief and do something in service to others. That is how I heal. I also use story telling to heal my soul. I talk about my sister, and my mother to all that will listen.
I am now the only member of my immediate family not diagnosed by lung disease. First there were five of us, and now there are three. Most recently, my sister Debra died from metastatic lung cancer; the same disease that took my mother in 1989. My sister always said she was more like my mother than I was. And now, in death, that is true. My brother had a stroke last year from smoking, and my dad lives with COPD after having a collapsed lung.
They were all smokers. I never smoked. Well, I tried it once and hated it. My mother, of blessed memory, could never understand how I could smoke pot. That is a story for another day.
My sister died on December 16, 2022, on my father’s birthday. To me her death was sudden. To her it was slow and painful. She was found on the floor of her apartment, barely breathing after three days of not responding to calls, texts or emails. We hadn’t spoken in months as she also suffered from mental illness. Her demons got in the way of our love. Where do I put all of my unspoken words? Time ran out.
We had just returned from a wonderful month long adventure in Paris. A long overdue vacation since Covid surrounded the world. My brother called to tell me Debra was in the hospital. She was found on the floor, barely breathing. It was three or four days since anyone had spoken to her. Her son called the local precinct, and requested a wellness check on her. They found her, on the floor with a barely detectable pulse.
She was rushed to the ER, and placed on life support. Hope was gone. Her heart stopped and she was gone. My sister had cancer that spread. She had a mass in her lungs and in her brain. She smoked, just like our mother.
Where do I put all the unspoken words? How do I resolve the distance that was always present between us? Even when you are estranged from someone, there is a tiny bit of comfort in the knowing that she is over there, living her life. You think you have all the time to resolve the issues, to speak the unspoken words. You think one day, maybe we will talk and finally resolve all the issues between us. And now, that day will never come. The possibility no longer exists. She is dead.
With this sudden realization, I panicked. I thought, I too may have some form of lung disease lurking because I grew up surrounded by second hand smoke. I recently had a series of tests and scans, and I have no detectable obstructions, blockages or issues.
I live alongside all this grief in my heart. My whole life there were three of us. I am the oldest, followed by Debra, then Steven. Always, two girls and a boy. And now there are two.
In gratitude…
Who Stole My Estrogen? 