A Personal Edge: How My Late Sister Continues to Push Me
February 1, 2024 marks 19 years since she died.
My big sister pushes me.
I used to get annoyed by it, today, I am mostly grateful, haha.
Today, February 1, 2024 marks 19 years since she died.
And yet, my strong willed, passionate, stubborn, kind and determined big sister, Tanielle, the oldest of our clan of 6, continues to push me to be my best self.
I was at a poetry reading by David Whyte recently and he shared about how relationships with those who died continue to mature.
I have felt that way and pondered that constantly for years. Tanielle was 18 when she died, I was 15, I quickly outlived her years and throughout the last 19 years, I have continued to be in awe how she still feels like my big sister, it’s a weird feeling but she physically stays the same but emotionally grows with me.
It’s beyond logic, yet I know it to be true.
Tanielle pushes me to trust more.
Tanielle pushes me to surrender.
Tanielle pushes me to fight for what I believe in, even if I am the only one who cares.
Tanielle pushes me to hold firm to my values.
Tanielle encourages me to be kinder.
I don’t just mean her memory, it’s her active spirit in my life. The way I have continued to experience her presence in my life and this world has pushed my capacity to hold grief, pain, love, the unknown in ways I continue to surprise myself.
I reflect on this with clients, friends and family how the grief journey is not linear and some moments and years it hits like a ton of bricks and some years it feels lighter. Sometimes I lose all hope and sometimes I am filled with more hope than I could have imagined. It’s about riding the wave and not making any better or less than.
So where I am this year?
This year, I am feeling her so alive and that leaves me feeling comforted and joyful.
One profound experience that happened this past August has had wild ripple effects on why I feel that way.
In August 2023, my whole family converged in Chicago- everyone from my siblings and their families from Israel to my 95 and 97 year old grandparents from Florida who haven’t flown since Covid.
We all converged in Chicago because we were dedicating a Torah in Tanielle’s memory, honoring 18 years of her life and since she died. This mitzvah, this act of connection, is a big deal, it’s both expensive and has a lot of significance- commencing with a parade, lots of dancing and singing, often compared to a Jewish wedding, as a Torah is like a new life being danced under a traditional wedding chuppah to it’s new home in the ark in the synagogue that it’ll reside.
I did not know what to expect - a pretty bittersweet day, this happy occasion but in memory of Tanielle.
And the pushing begins, the capacity for my spirit, my ‘vessel’ to hold both of those emotions at the same time.
And the pushing continues, as the family navigates different religious needs and observances, I was scared that as a women in a community where men are more involved in this mitzvah, I would feel left out. I pushed for certain important pieces and surrendered in other ways. It was a painful and beautiful process.
and then the dancing began, the Torah under the traditional wedding chuppah and to my utmost surprise it was one of the happiest I’ve felt; dancing in the streets, the Torah being escorted to the synagogue, like a bride escorted to her groom, singing on the top of my lungs and dancing like no one was watching- while in reality a procession of hundreds and hundreds of people were following the Torah under the chuppah.
And the surprise continued. We are over 5 months later and the Torah dedicated in Tanielle’s memory is read every week on Shabbat the weekly Torah portion and I have a different reverence toward the Torah and how I feel Tanielle’s aliveness.
The Torah being dedicated in her memory makes her feel alive in a way I can’t really explain, it’s like this Torah is a manifestation of her essence.
When I am in the synagogue with her Torah, I stand as close as I can as they take it out of the ark, aside from the respect for a Torah scroll, I feel a combination of respect for my eldest sister, protection of her making sure she’s being cared for, and yearning for closeness to her.
If you have no reference to any of this, this might seem bizarre, weird, incomprehensible and that is okay, that’s for being with me in my experience.
For me, her light is even more present in this world and I feel her constantly holding me to my highest standard of the kind of human being I want to be- taking after her purity, generosity, passion, and love for all kinds of people, ages, religions, races, you name it. We are born into this world with bodies, hearts and souls and life happens which creates brokenness in our bodies, hearts and spirits- I have always heard the idea that the light gets in through the cracks- it always sounded nice but never really connected with it until a few weeks ago when a friend of mine shared it about herself and it hit!
The challenges, the pain, the grief, the loss, creates cracks, which creates more space, more space for something else to enter and then you become someone different because now there is a new part of you.
That is how I have felt throughout the last 19 years since Tanielle suddenly died.
The cracks keep coming and then whether I like it or not, it has been really devastating, I grow to a new edge each time and become a new version of myself that has more capacity for the complexity of life.
Here I am today, becoming the person I am meant to be, to use to be of service in this world, Tanielle a constant teacher, and a bossy big sister calling me to uplevel whether I like it or not 😉.