Still no words, just love

I haven’t written in over 2 months. I can’t. There are no words.

That‘s what happens when family tragedy hits — the rest of life seems to disappear… writing deadlines, social appointments, the unending to do lists —there is just a stillness.

Nothing else matters.

My sister passed away 2 months ago from stage IV Melanoma, from which she had been diagnosed 6 weeks prior. When she passed away there were no words that could be said to make any of us feel better, less empty, or bring comfort — except for our family being together, which was such a gift. There are no words for a loss like that, for someone so young, with so much courage and life ahead of her. She was 32.

Since my sister died, I have been struggling with emotionally accepting her loss, which intellectually I understand. I have been struggling to find the normalcy of life, slowly out of the surreal “nothing else matters” internal state I had been functioning in since her diagnosis back in June. I am very grateful for the the parts of my life that keep me strong, hopeful, and present; my very lively 3 year old daughter whose energy is enough for the both of us, for my husband and beautiful growing family, and for my new job, which seems like a timely gift from my sister — a perfect position that fell in my lap the week she died. One thing we had in common, our ability to dive in, get lost, and do our best work when we are in the most stressful and difficult of times.

Since this all happened, I have also been unable to write.. to post my medium articles I grew to adore so much, to work on finishing my book which has become my passion project, for which several deadlines have come and gone.

There are just no words for them.

So now I am making myself be brave and find the words, because she would want me to.

“Writing is a way back to life”– Steven King

One of her favorite quotes was:

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone”.

Trying to rectify in my mind and heart the loss of someone who sparkled so bright, with so much energy and passion for life is — beyond uncomfortable, like constant thoughts in a failed meditation.

Facing the lessons of the true preciousness and fragility of life is uncomfortable, especially in relation to my own family and children.

Trying to let the words come is incredibly uncomfortable, fearful I don’t know what will come out, or if they still can.

Having the courage to reach inside myself to continue to be the woman that will make my sister proud feels scary and uncomfortable, but it’s exactly what she would want me to do.

There still are no words to describe the loss of her, but only love…

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
“Do the things that scare you, that’s how we grow.”

So Krit, when I terrify myself on purpose, like we love to do… I’ll always look to you for strength to get me through.