My parents never spoke about my beloved sisters Margie and Jane as the pain too hard for them. I followed their lead and did not mention Margie and Jane. For years when asked how many siblings I had, my breath stopped, and I answered, “Just me.” Tt’s a challenging question for almost all bereaved siblings. Today I state, “I am the middle of three, and sadly, I lost both my sisters.”

When Jane died, someone said to me, “There will be a day when you will forget your sister.” For years, this haunted me. I lost memories and squashed any mention of Margie and Jane.

Years later, a friend commented on how odd it was that I didn’t talk about my sisters. By then, many memories had dissipated. Through therapy, looking at photos, and sharing my sisters, stories are developing, some I never knew. Now I speak their names.

Will I ever remember the minute details like their favorite color, a particular fight we had, or the name of the restaurant we celebrated a birthday? Despite our differences, my two sisters secured my foundation. We shared our strengths, our weaknesses, our darkness, our light, our cries, our laughter, and most of all our unconditional love.

One friend shares that she went into disability law due to the struggles Margie faced with mental illness. Another friend fondly remembers as young girls riding bicycles throughout the neighborhood, Margie always with a big smile.

Jane’s friend told me how they went through my room, and Jane insisted they put everything back the exact way it was when they came in. I found this amusing as Jane never thought me “cool.”

My mother shared a story with my daughters about my sisters and me that I do not recall. My father came home from work and my mother had baked a cake. When my father asked what kind of cake, my sisters and I chimed in together, “Duncan Hines.”

Today when friends talk about their siblings, I still have a hole in my heart. Still, I interject with my stories of Margie and Jane rather than sit quietly not acknowledging my sisters. I suppose my putting up the wall for many years sent a signal to others not to come in and now that I have let the wall down, more are welcome to come in and share and speak their name. I am grateful. It is new for me and did not happen overnight and still a work in progress.

So often when we lose our siblings, other are at a loss and uncomfortable what to say or acknowledge our loss. Speak their names. Share a story. The memories are what we hold onto.

Purchase Judy Lipson’s book at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1608082679/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

Read more from Judy Lipson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/selecting-songs-…honor-loved-ones/