Month: September 2024

Three months ago I wrote to someone on a forum who asked me whether sibling loss gets better or easier. I had forgotten about my response entirely, but that person recently resurfaced and started that conversation back up. The answer is still valid, and my new self is still forming. I think that might be true for the rest of my life.

“I think the simple (but lacking) answer is that for almost everyone, yes, it gets ‘easier.’ I don’t like to frame it that way, because it’s just different now. I am functional again—there was a long stretch there where taking care of my basic needs was hard, my cognition was horrible, etc. (I wrote about some of that in my post history, if you want to look.)

“I think what I would say is that my brain, like many people’s brains, is designed to push us to survive, and that has meant it has learned ways to not keep the loss at the forefront of my mind. When each and every thought is not exclusively about my sister, I am able to live life, pursue things, focus, live. But there’s still a hole. It takes very little for me to slip right back into the sadness. I have made my own eyes well up right now as I type this and think about how easy it is to bring myself to this point.

“I still miss her terribly. I have built small rituals into my days now that are no longer conscious decisions, and therefore also tucked away just below that level of awareness. I wear a necklace with her fingerprint every day, for example. This used to be an overt ritual for myself that I would make sure I do. Now it’s just as natural as brushing my teeth or putting on shoes. So there are a lot of signs of the wound becoming closed with scar tissue, to use a common metaphor. Is that better or easier? I’m not sure. But I’m not in danger of bleeding out anymore. I am now learning to move the injured parts of me through the world with the encumbrance of the scar tissue, though. Every day I get a little more skilled at being this new version of me.”

80 days ago*, I moved to an entirely new country on the other side of the world. That had been the plan since before my sister’s death. And so life marches on. In those 80 days I’ve lived life—nested in a new home, tried to start building a new social network, had my heart damaged just a little, done adventurous things I never would have thought I would do, and (at least for now) become oddly more comfortable with floating in a liminal space and taking life day by day.

It wasn’t until a week ago that I felt the draw to return to this blog and write. I think it’s no coincidence that a week ago I took my first vacation in nearly two years and existed just as me, Sarah, out in the world without the protective shell of chores or work to distract me. For better or for worse, I had to sit with just myself and experience what that is like in this new phase of life.

It’s hard to believe how quickly I’m hurtling through the “seconds” of everything—year 2, the second time doing ____ without my sister there. So much has changed, but also not as much as I expected. Some of the drama and bullshit from year 1 has restarted in year 2. The ever-present background noise of my yearning for my sister has not gone away, but I have gotten a little better at temporarily ignoring it. I assume I have changed a lot, but I can’t clearly remember the person I used to be anymore. I am not sure she ever existed.

But I’m still here, and I have more to say. You’re still here—on this blog, if you’re reading, but also in the larger sense. There’s something that feels very important about that, even if I can’t put an eloquent on the screen to describe it.

*Did I do this compulsive quantifying of lengths of times and distances before my sister’s death? I honestly couldn’t tell you.