My Sister's Birthday

Lately, I have been reflecting on how sister is a complicated word for me.  Right after Alison died, just hearing sister was traumatic.  While I do not use the word traumatic lightly, after her death, every time a parent on the school playground or a friend mentioned their sister, it brought the reality of my loss to the forefront.  Almost an extreme experience of FOMO, I felt left out of a lifelong sister relationship.  The heartache and painful cycle of enabling and boundaries disappeared.  Happy memories and the reality of losing a sister, my sister, my only sister, prevailed.

I recently learned of a mother who lost her teenage son. My feelings ranged from the terror of losing my preteen baby boy to extreme guilt over gratitude that I have not lost a child. Within those thoughts, a subconscious voice also rose. This mother, the mother whose son so tragically passed away has another child. I had a visceral reaction to ensure this sibling is supported. I was reminded of a conversation with a mother suffering from the devastating loss of her daughter. She shared that her support group recognized the gap for siblings after a loss. In response, one support group member purchased supplies. Organically, another donated a book. Another a camera with a sweet note about how lost she was and taking pictures helped her find her way. Someone made a bracelet. And a powerful Sibling Care Box became this group's gift to those siblings often overlooked. Update: This idea is now a non-profit called Sibling to Sibling.

Some of my dearest friends became so after Alison died because their support included relating to the loss of a sister or brother.  Whether from the shared grief of addiction, death from illness, or a tragic accident, we created a connection that those without this unimaginable loss cannot understand.  I chose - after intensive therapy and continued awareness - to celebrate siblings.  To share that the gift of a healthy, living sibling should not be taken for granted.  To relive the happy and real childhood memories of my sister.  And to view my kids’ sibling bond and rivalry without fear, but rather the joy and complexity of their evolving relationship.

But I will always have a place in my heart for the sibling who is somewhat forgotten when the wife, husband, mother, or father are surrounded by sympathy after an agonizing death.  And I will never forget driving home from my sister's funeral realizing that my Mom, Dad and I all had living siblings.  Yet, now we are all a new and sad definition of only children.  As more stories of loss are shared with me, I hope mine will offer some compassion to those grieving, including a little extra love for the often-forgotten sister or brother.  And maybe even inspire the creation of Sibling Care Boxes.

I miss my sister and am grateful that, with time, I can remember her past birthdays with happy memories, such as those I captured in my profound elementary school writing "My Stinky Sister's Birthday."  Thirty-eight years later, my baby sister will always be a part of my story, my heart, and me.  Happy Birthday, Alison.  I love you. (By Lindsey Hayes Daly, Executive Director)