Sibling Loss: The Forgotten Grief

This picture is of Jessica, age 11, holding her 12-month-old baby brother. 
 

I recently wrote an article for Next Avenue about Sibling Loss.

https://web.archive.org/web/20251105140110/https://www.nextavenue.org/the-forgotten-grief-navigating-the-heartbreak-of-sibling-loss/

Steel Magnolias

 

The cast and crew of Steel Magnolias. Elgin Theatre Guild, St. Thomas

 Our city has a small theatre downtown that we have visited a few times. They host intimate concerts and plays featuring local actors. The talent in our area is extraordinary and truly deserves recognition for the work they do. When I saw the next play was called "Steel Magnolias," I knew I had to check it out. 

"Steel Magnolias" is a 1989 movie featuring notable actresses like Julia Roberts and Daryl Hannah, alongside a stellar cast that includes Sally Field, Olimpia Dukakis, Shirley McLain, and, of course, Dolly Parton. I remember going to see this movie at a small-town, rundown theatre, complete with gum on the floor and a roof that leaked, creating a steady drip throughout the film. While I don't recall many details about the story, I did remember that Julia Roberts' character died in the film. 

The play was an adaptation of the movie, as it took place entirely in a beauty salon with just six women. It was a warm and funny story that paired with diverse characters, featuring southern humour and hospitality. Warm and funny, until the last scene.

I wish I had rewatched the movie again, as I had planned to, to become more familiar with the story. In that final scene, five of the women were in the salon, dressed in black. I assumed this meant that "Shelby," the character played by Julia Roberts in the movie, had died. As the group of women discussed her death, I could feel a sense of dread welling up inside me. It was that dreaded "wave" that would sneak up on me, but this time, I knew it was coming. What I didn't anticipate was the overwhelming intensity of this wave. 

Then Shelby's mother, M'Lynn enters also dressed in black. She appears lost, but she knows she needs to be with her "people" — her tribe, loved ones who care for her unconditionally. I understand that feeling. You are at loose ends, unable to tell top from bottom, in from out, yesterday from today. Your insides are pulled out, and you don't know how to reorganize them to put them back together.  

M'Lynn begins to express how lost she feels and how much she misses Shelby. Then it comes--the wail from the pit of her stomach, that sound, oh that sound that defies description. I call it "guttural," but even that term doesn't capture the essence of a mother overcome with grief. 

I recognize that sound, I've made it more than once, more than twice--countless times. In those early days, following my daughter, Jessica's death, that cry confronted me almost daily, often when I was alone. Now, as I look back on my past, it unfolds before me in vivid detail. This actress compelled me to confront those memories once again, and I honestly do not miss that feeling.

Before the indescribable cry, my tears were already starting to flow. When M'Lynn released that cry from the pit of her gut, I sobbed almost uncontrollably, though I managed to hold back somewhat. My husband had already reached for my hand. He knew this moment was coming. He, too, had seen this in me before. 

I am incredibly impressed with the actress portraying M'Lynn. To evoke such deep emotion from someone who has endured that depth of sorrow requires not just talent but also genuine empathy towards those who suffer in life. 

I composed myself to watch the rest of this stellar production. While it was challenging, I felt that small step toward healing once again. Complete healing will not be possible in this earthly body of mine, but each step and each touch help me to move forward a little more every day. 

Finish It! The Annual Terry Fox Run

 

Soon after Jessica passed away, I listened to an audiobook titled Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief by David Kessler. That book has been a turning point in my healing journey. It's not about finding a purpose, because in my opinion (and every other person I know), there is no purpose in losing Jess. I know, as a Christian, I should see that God has a purpose and a plan for all of us, but I can't reconcile applying that to this part of my life. I know God is in all things and right there with us. 

Finding meaning when losing a loved one can be things like starting a foundation focusing on the issues that took that person from this world, or creating a memorial of some kind. While we have a memorial bench being placed in a local conservation area, the Terry Fox Run seemed like an appropriate avenue. 

Terry Fox is a Canadian hero. In 1980, he began The Marathon of Hope, a run from the east coast of Canada to the west.  That in itself is a daunting feat for any athlete, but Terry wasn't just any athlete.

When Terry was just 18 years old, he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in his left femur.  Along with chemotherapy, Terry had his left leg amputated to remove the cancer from his body. Terry was an athlete before the diagnosis, excelling in both long-distance running and basketball. Even after the amputation, Terry continued to live out his athletics playing wheelchair basketball and long-distance running. 

The Marathon of Hope was Terry's dream to not only raise awareness but also to raise money for cancer research. Terry died on June 28, 1981, after he had to cut short his marathon, when the cancer returned to his lungs (osteosarcoma is a sneaky demon that way). 

It was in 1981 that the Terry Fox Run was born to continue Terry's dream. This is why we chose to run as part of our way to create meaning. Running in Jessica's name. It seemed appropriate given they shared the same diagnosis. It's how Terry's family created meaning, and as of September 2024, over 900 million dollars have been raised for vital cancer research. 

So our team, Jessica's Journey Walkers, was launched in 2024. The name was born out of how all of us walked the journey with Jessica in some way. We scrambled to get the team together with just a little over a month to raise money, but we came in over $5000! We were a team of over 20 walkers! It was so healing for many of us as we walked for Jess. 

This year, we decided to double our goal. We still had a good number of over 20 team members, and the plus this year was having my parents join!  Jessica would be so thrilled that they participated, and in some way, I'm sure she is smiling on them, on us all. 

We are still waiting for the final numbers, but we should exceed $10,000 when all is said and done. We talked after the run was finished, and we want to shoot for $15,000 next year!  

While again, it was a day of healing, it was also a day of remembrance; several people asked about our reason to run, our loss. People are so caring and expressed their condolences, but when I got in my car alone after the run, I broke down. Telling the story exhausted me. It tore at the heart to dig down into painful memories. 

I again sensed Jessica's words, "It's ok, Mom. I'm so proud of you. You all did great!" We did this for her, for her memory, for her name to be remembered, to be talked about, to be cherished. 

Her name was, is and will continue to be affectionately remembered, lovingly talked about and beautifully cherished. We love you sweet Jessica <3 oxox

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful" 

2 Timothy 4:7

Decluttering

I had a "wave" hit me the other day while helping my son-in-law begin the decluttering process to prepare for his upcoming move in the next few months. His mother and I were tackling the main floor closet, where the accumulation of everyday family living tends to build up over time. They have lived in this home for 7 years, and while Jess was alive, she was the organizer of all things needing organizing; the ongoing tending has been lacking the past two years.

It's been hard for me as the "mother-in-law" to haphazardly go through and declutter, since I don't want to be perceived as being controlling, but truthfully, someone has to do it. His mom has that unspoken permission more so than I do.

That all being said, it was while going through some folders that I experienced this latest grief wave. A folder that contained Jessica's papers and certificates from a hotel and restaurant management course she took through a local private career college was the source of the wave. At first, it was nostalgic seeing her high school diploma and other certificates related to her course, but then the folder that contained the graduation information hit me. 

This was from 2012, and I couldn't remember the graduation. I certainly did not attend since we were living over an hour away at the time, but why didn't I? Was there only one attendee allowed, and did she have her husband attend instead? 

I can't imagine for the life of me that I just didn't go or that I was indifferent. I remember being proud of her for completing the course and securing a job soon after, so I would have gone if the option had been there. The details escaped me. 

I instantly felt guilt about not knowing and remembering parts of Jessica's life. It was like the time I found the photo book she had made up for 2020, and it contained only one photo of our family. It was like we were so absent from her life. It was the pandemic, and we certainly saw them as much as we could, but it seemed the photos featured represented a whole different history than I remembered. 

I felt that element of jealousy accompany the guilt like I did then. I felt like such a phony. Here I have the romanticized version of my life with Jess, and I knew her better than anyone else. These discoveries remind me that I was not part of every single journey she had on this earth. 

Sometimes I think most people don't understand my grief, or that these "waves" still come after this length of time (heck, I suspect the waves will be present as long as I am alive), so I kept my composure as much as I could at the time.

While I was driving home, I let it out. I screamed, I cried, and I apologized to Jess. I know there were difficult chapters in our lives as mother and daughter, and I still deal with the guilt of that, even though those things were resolved long before she passed. 

That being said, I'm sure I could hear her say, "Mom, it's ok! Please, you have nothing to feel bad about. I love you." Even at that, it took me a couple of days to lose the funk I was feeling. The feelings of loss and loneliness without her were overwhelming. Oh, how some days, I just long to be with her in eternity. 

But alas, that day is not here yet. It could be far off, or it could be soon. Either way, I need to live for today but plan for tomorrow. It's like I remember one lovely Christian gentleman saying, "I need to plan that Jesus could come back today or a hundred years from now."

So while the decluttering of the closet was the goal for the day, the decluttering is also taking place in my mind and soul. "Mom, it's ok!"

I wrote a blog some weeks ago, titled "Sign Posts." The post is about the subtle signs we notice after a loved one passes away. The cardinal in the Garden, the dime on the ground, or a feather floating in the wind. These "signs" tend to bring some of us peace and tranquillity. 

Some people feel that they are signs directly from their loved one to signal to them that they are at peace. Whatever the belief someone has, these signs are a healing salve to our aching hearts. I never used to pay much attention to these sightings, of course, until I had a loved one who passed from this earthly home to their heavenly home. 

I personally believe that it is God who sends these messages of hope, and perhaps they have been there all along, but I haven't had the reason to search for a sign. This summer has seen me become a sort of "butterfly whisperer," raising 5 butterflies from egg to release. The joy of seeing these beautiful creations flit about on our butterfly bush has brought many smiles to not only my face, but the faces of others I share pictures with or tell the story.  

Our butterfly bush also attracts several varieties of butterflies, moths, bees, and hummingbirds. Yesterday, while I was playing amateur photographer documenting the daily life of the monarch, I had another kind of encounter. A hummingbird suspended itself about 10 -12 inches away from my face and seemed to be looking right at me. It was only for a few seconds, but the feeling it left me with was absolute delight. 

When I looked up the markings of the hummingbird, it was a young male ruby-throated hummingbird. Instead of a full neck blazoned with red, this hummingbird had a small dot at the centre of its throat. Whatever the variety, I felt truly blessed that he seemed to take the time to look me in the eye. 

Even lately, I have had a nightly visitor in the form of a beautiful male cardinal. Each evening between 7:30 and 8:00, I hear the distinctive chirp coming from outside our patio door. I run to catch a glimpse, and he is either at our bird feeder or close by in a bush, his bright red coat in stark contrast to the greenery surrounding him. One night, I heard a beautiful song coming from outside, and Mr. Cardinal was in a bush, belting out the most beautiful tune, unlike his usual chirp. This melody was like no other, singing just for me (or so I'd like to think).

Are these encounters with the beauty of nature, from our loved ones who have left this world? I'll leave that one for discussion, but I have a couple of other ideas. One, God knows our hearts with all of the broken pieces. I believe He sends these messengers as sort of an extension of Himself, to comfort us in times of sadness. 

Another thought I have along the same vein is that personal encounters with God's creation evoke a sense of harmony and peace, reminiscent of the Garden before the Fall or the joy of the eagerly awaited New Heaven and New Earth. That is the day when we will be with Christ, as well as our loved ones who have gone before us, with Him. 

You will live in joy and peace. The mountains and hills will burst into song, and the trees of the field will clap their hands! Where once there were thorns, cypress trees will grow. Where nettles grew, myrtles will sprout up. These events will bring great honour to the Lord’s name; they will be an everlasting sign of his power and love.” Isaiah 55:12-13 NLT