Skating is a sport I shared with my beloved sisters. When we were young girls, we proudly carried our skates in plaid bags and raced to be the first ones on the ice. Margie, my older sister, the most talented, Jane, the youngest, was athletic, and I, the middle sister, a bit of a klutz. Little did I know that skating would become the chord that would bind me, honor, and remember, and forever find peace and joy with my sisters.
Throughout my life, somehow the ice called me, a pull I never quite understood, my happy place, where my mind emptied. I felt the glide on a sheet of ice, like a beautiful piece of glass, and felt the cool breeze swoop the hair off my face. Although I lost many memories of my sisters, I somehow remembered the skating memories—our laughter, rosy cheeks, and warm hot chocolate afterwards.
It seemed fitting that I founded Celebration of Sisters in 2011, an annual ice-skating fundraiser to commemorate the lives and memories of Margie and Jane, benefiting Massachusetts General Hospital. Margie and Jane were fun extroverts, unlike me, who was an introvert. A fundraiser that represented them in a sport we all shared. I never dreamed that I, the tentative skater, would be out there performing in front of a large audience. Margie and Jane encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone, celebrate them, and share my sisters with others to keep them from being forgotten.
The event took a pause in 2022 and will return in 2026. The date is in November, the most challenging month. Jane’s birthday is November 6th, Margie’s the 8th, and the anniversary of Jane’s death is the 7th. I needed the focus to provide me a way to channel my grief, get through the harrowing month, after decades of squashing my grief. Margie and Jane provide me with the courage to skate before an audience and are my anchors. I can hear my sisters giggling, telling me my dress is too short, I have too much blush on, but ultimately proud of the shy middle sister who came out of the wings to do good and give back.
I felt honored that they asked me to perform at my skating club’s Christmas show in December. The day proved to be magical. I had my typical meltdown on practice day before the show. A mix of emotions–elated to be skating, feeling the joy, love of my sisters, and a piece of my heart hurting, missing them, wanting them to be beside me. I am grateful to have found a space where I can hold grief meaningfully and find the symmetry of love, joy, and grief blending.
In 2025, the birthdays/anniversaries hit me hard. Grief has no timeline, and despite Jane being gone for forty-four years and Margie thirty-three, the loss and sadness remain. I never know what the feeling will be from one year to the next, and now I am allowing myself to feel whatever emotions come up and trying to give myself compassion. Margie and Jane remain my past, present, and future. I am Judy, the middle of three sisters.
“Ice-skating brought me full circle back to my beloved sisters. As I glided across the ice, I felt free, and the weight of my world lifted. I imagined Margie and Jane skating on each side of me, holding onto my shoulders. The joy of my sisters’ presence was reflected in my radiant face and fluid movements on the ice. I could dance away from the pain for that one moment in time. Ice skating was and is my passion, solace and peace.” (Excerpt from my memoir, Celebration of Sisters: It Is Never Too Late To Grieve)
Judy, the image of you imagining Margie and Jane skating on each side of you brought tears to my eyes. I work with a woman through MyFarewelling who lost her brother two years ago. They used to run together every Saturday morning. She stopped completely after he died because it hurt too much. Last month she told me she finally went for a run and could almost feel him keeping pace beside her. She said she cried the entire three miles but felt closer to him than she had in months. You’re so right that the activities we shared with the people we’ve lost can become sacred spaces for grief and connection.