I reread the rabbi’s eulogy from my beloved sister Jane’s funeral. He said, 

“There is no satisfactory answer to understanding why bad things happen to good people. Not all questions have answers. Unanswered “whys” are part of life. The way to face tragedy is with love. Use the love we had for Jane to forgive ourselves.” Focusing on his words helped me knock down roadblocks to forgive myself.”

Forgiveness for me was not a quick fix, magic bullet, instant gratification, but a long, arduous triathlon. I needed to program my heart and mind in sync to forgive myself and applaud the efforts I am presently undertaking. My brain and feelings needed to assimilate. The parallel to training for my skating. If in my mind I overthink instead of enjoying the flow and music, my nerves subside, and a stronger performance. Peace versus guilt.

I squashed the grief for my beloved sisters, Margie and Jane, for thirty years. The journey that started in 2011 was emotional, challenging, and empowering. After three decades, I let down the walls I had put up to protect myself, not understanding grief, coupled with the trauma of Margie’s mental illness for twenty years. I felt the burden and pressure to take care of my parents. I turn seventy this year; a piece of me will never completely forgive myself, but I hope with age I can reflect with clearer wisdom. The greatest hurdle to overcome is the lost memories due to not talking and sharing Margie and Jane for decades.  

  When I sat on a beach in Aruba to celebrate my daughter Janie’s 30th birthday, looking out on the waves of beautiful shades of navy, aqua and turquoise sparkling from the sunshine. I observed echoes of my existence, the possibilities not pursued, yearning for my siblings, recognizing myself in my daughter Janie, wishing she cherishes the person she has grown into and anticipates the future of her journey.  I think thirty years; the number of years I lost grieving for Margie and Jane.

  Aruba held memories. Today I can relay the stories after years of being unable to share my cherished sisters. My sister Jane and I shared a trip to Aruba in March of 1979 after my first grueling Christmas in retail straight out of college. I was twenty-two, Jane, nineteen, and although specific memories escape me, the photo from the trip reveal two sisters, tanned with beaming smiles. Although Jane and I did not share many commonalities, we enjoyed our time together. Another revelation in the picture was the resemblance between Jane and me. People commented on how Margie and I looked like twins. Now I saw my likeness to Jane too. How lucky to have the time with Jane prior to her death eight months later. 

  What agonized me was that the memories drifted away, floated deep in the ocean, that I cannot recall Margie and Jane, my sisters, my livelihood, my childhood, my growth, and my aging. The stories that will not be told, passed down to generations, are halted.  I record daily thoughts, examine the pictures, and random images emerge. Snippets of lives, dreams, and hopes I hang onto. 

  The sound of the waves breaking as they touch the shore is like the break in my heart that is so permanent for my lost sisters; for the time I have taken to mourn them. As I survey the beach and notice families, I wish Margie and Jane were here. They are not. That is the reality. They are forever beside me and in my heart.

The other piece of forgiveness is guilt of not being the best sister. Why didn’t I do more to help Margie? Spend more time with Jane?  This is experienced by everyone who has experienced loss. One can always do more but nothing can change the outcome. The complexity of Margie’s illness and my youth factor in. My mind holds the solution, yet a sister’s core experiences regret. 

How do I forgive myself for not doing the work to grieve for my beloved sisters, Margie and Jane, for thirty years? My mind cannot seem to release what the landscape of life looks like without the lost time. In my head, I try to intellectualize that I did the best I could at that time under the circumstances, and I’m grateful I did the work. My mind will not allow me the emancipation of forgiveness. As the years go on, the burden lifts. 

The birth of four grandchildren has brought joy, love, and a new focus.  

  Coupled with forgiveness, finally mourning for my beloved sisters, as I never had the chance to do in 1981 and 1990, so many emotions, raw, yet crucial to my life. I have learned and gained insight into myself, Margie and Jane as individuals and the many qualities we shared as sisters. The total package of three sisters.

  Margie and Jane, I will always love you.