Thirty years. In about five more weeks, my sister Denise will have been gone thirty years.
While I had been aware of it on some level, it wasn’t until Friday that it hit me in the head when I attended a luncheon for the local grief center. I had been the keynote speaker for this luncheon twelve or so years ago and I then remembered I had attended one of the first ones they had held, some sixteen years ago. Many of the people I knew who were involved in launching it, then called The Children’s Grief Center, have moved onto other things– as they should– the center has grown and I was reminded of how much work we have done locally and internationally to help people coping with any sort of loss.
It also reminded me of the many things that have happened in that time and all the things I’ve accomplished. But there was an even bigger recognition in my head– this isn’t about Denise’s death now, it’s about my journey since then.
Thirty years seems like such a big number, one of those significant anniversary numbers, one that we like to celebrate happily. Or a birthday of thirty when someone is leaving their twenties and going into a new decade, their thirties.
This photo was taken in Los Angeles in 2019 on Mulholland Drive. I still remember it clearly, the sun starting to set over Los Angeles and Hollywood. But my journey didn’t look like this when I started. I couldn’t see all that was ahead, above, or below. I could barely see in front of me.
I’ll be sharing some of these lessons learned in these thirty years over the next weeks. There’s a lot to reflect on from that time and I believe it’s important to share what I’ve learned that might help others. After all, if it helped me to move forward or inspired me in some way, then there must be something in there for someone else.