Around 4 am the next morning there was a knock at the door. It was the local police, and I instantly knew it was about my sister. She had taken her life sometime between 10 pm and midnight the previous night. As her listed next of kin, we were the first to be notified. The officers at the door were my husband's coworkers, one of them I knew well. All he could say was "I'm sorry." I realized there was nothing else he could say to me to make it better. When they left I turned to Rod and said. "Wow, your job really sucks sometimes."
I sat on the couch, half in shock, processing. Not crying, but the tears flowed in a continuous stream down my cheeks. I felt extremely grateful to have Rod by my side. He made the necessary phone calls: Kamloops RCMP, the Coroner, my parents. I don't think I could have done it.
I had no idea how to take the seeming coincidence between what I said in therapy that day and my sister's death. I didn't understand it. To add to it the night before my session I had a dream where I lashed out on my sister, like full blown tantrum, and I woke up thinking I didn't realize I had all that anger in me. And two days previous to that, my sister had accepted my recent friend request on Facebook. Then a few days after her death I dreamt that we met on the street in our hometown and I told her I was ok with her choice. Now that I think of it, the place we met in that dream was next to a lot which my mom later turned into a memorial park in my sister's honour, but I never told my mom about this dream. There seemed to be this chain of events that were all connected, yet disjointed, and I could not make sense of their sequential occurrences.
At this point my current spiritual understanding was in its infant stages of development. As a child I was lightly exposed to the United Church and we followed loose Christian traditions, but that was pretty much the extent of it. I was born and raised with a critical mind. I questioned things that didn't quite resonate with me, and although I share many of the same values as I heard in church, something felt limiting about it and I never really settled with it. So I grew up with a vague sense of understanding when it came to how I fit into the universe.
Over the past two years through my grief and many accompanying experiences I have developed a much more confident understanding of my world. I've learnt to search within to find this understanding. As a result, purpose, direction and spirituality have blossomed. And as I better understand my truth, while observing my growth I begin to realize that my sister and I were more alike than I ever had acknowledged. I suspect Niki saw this, however, and often tried to sway me in her direction. As my mental health struggles became more resounding, I developed a much greater empathy for her struggles. As I opened my mind and started having conversations with others around the subject of spirit world, possibilities arose and the line between what is real versus illusion became much less defined, I surrendered the authority to decide what is real and what is not. My newfound empathy led to a greater acceptance of her experiences, beliefs and choices.
I struggled with the timing of all this. Why now that’s she’s gone, do I have the ability to support her in the way she needed so badly when she was alive? Through my recent experiences I've become more like my sister; imagine the conversations we could have had in her life, imagine the space I could have held for her, and she for me. Where as our relationship was special and connection strong in a way, it was distant in a way too, and our encounters became further and fewer between. We never were able to completely open up to one another. That was the sister bond I envied in other families. I was so close, but it came too late.
Only in the last couple months have I been able to see another angle to this. It came about through two significant conversations. The first was with an intuitive healer. After my session it became apparent to me that I wasn't gaining this insight into my sister's experience to support her, but rather as a part of my own healing. I opened widely to the possibility that she is, in spirit, is guiding this process, that she is helping me to better understand myself.
The second conversation was with a friend who happens to be a grief support worker. She offered an analogy that stuck with me. She said, "Usually I like to say as you grow in your identity, it starts with someone else holding up a mirror up for you until you can take that mirror and hold it for yourself. But in this case, you were holding the mirror for your sister, and then she took it and turned it around to hold for you." Since childhood I was typically the one looking out for her and often put my needs second. The idea that she is helping to carry some of my load now brings a great sense of comfort.
And guess what? I am ok. It's been hard, harder than I could have ever imagined. But I am ok.
My mom recently told me you get to choose how you want to see the world. I knew this in a sense, but I think hearing it from her was the permission I needed at the time. Rather than questioning what I think I should believe, I choose to believe what serves me best. And since I have taken this attitude, I have found a greater sense of belonging. I see where I fit in the universe and I have found trust in it's process. I see reasons for the things that happen in life, especially the challenging ones. I have found others who understand this perception and support me in it. But also a new independence in this trust, as there is support simply in the faith that things are working out just the way they are supposed to (whether I like it or not). Through this faith I have found acceptance. As hard as it is to let go of my sister in body, the belief that her spirit remains present, and that losing her has lead me on a path to a greater sense of belonging, brings some peace into this rocky journey life has laid out for me.
And perhaps, it is no coincidence after all, that the last conversation I had with Niki on the phone was around my spirituality. Perhaps, just maybe, a seed was being planted...
