There are moments in Life: How the death of my sister changed my life and why family is so important. Part 2

My sister and I spent the last two years and the final days when she could still communicate reminiscing about our childhood. In those brief conversations—she could only speak for short, limited stretches—we uncovered how many memories we had misunderstood and how many truths we had quietly been right about all along. One of those is how we allowed our past, our parents’ mistakes, and the ongoing drama in our family to come between us more often than they should.

We grew up in a divorced home, raised by a stepfather who, while he did manage to move us out of the South Bronx and consistently provide food and a roof over our heads, had character flaws that were at times bewildering and difficult to understand. But this was our home, and this is the man our mother chose to be with, so we learned to live with him. They would eventually divorce after many years, but by then the damage had already been done. I think I took most of the blunt of it, which pushed me to leave my home at sixteen. I left to escape, to find some distance and breathing room from the constant tension that had become our everyday life.

But that tension never fully dissipated. Since my sister and I had gone through most of it together, we developed a close bond. But everything changed after I got married, had children, and began to see how the toxicity from my family was harming our boys. Beyond the many arguments between me and the sisters I lived with — three, including one from my stepfather — the pattern became clear. My wife and I decided that, to protect our children from further hurt, we had to completely disconnect from my family. No communication — period.

Now many people would be completely opposed to cutting off family. In fact, I recently heard a mental health counselor on social media argue that doing so is a mistake — that cutting out family members or parents is simply an attempt to find someone to blame. I disagree with that view, at least to a certain extent. I didn't fully understand my position until I watched my sister slowly die; in that moment I became painfully aware of how limited time truly is. It was in my moment of being alone that I finally came to grips with the reality that I was going to lose my sister, and everything seemed to close in on me because I had also lost the ability to influence the direction of our relationship. I had no real choice; she was going to die, and now I must begin reshaping my life with the knowing — painful and absolute — that I can never call her again.

While I wish she were here and I had more time with her, I still found myself slipping into that spiral of regret — reflecting on the years we had lost, nearly a decade and a half gone. Was it truly worth it? I had to wrestle with those questions on my own. Had I made a mistake? She had hurt me, and I struggled with how I could continue to let a family so steeped in toxicity invade and harm my own. There are always many sides and many reasons to any story; this one contains too much complexity to fully unpack in a single blog. Our mother had her own struggles and problems to deal with, our dad was largely absent from our lives most of the time, My stepfather was abusive to me, a painful reality my family never truly acknowledged or came to terms with. His behavior, my mother’s behavior, and our biologically father all contributed to a pervasive sense of emotional abandonment, persistent instability, and ongoing gaslighting.

WHAT I LEARN FROM MY SISTER

Talking to my sister while she battled brain cancer reminded me of her remarkable resilience. She had gone through many hardships, compounded by the long-lasting effects of past trauma. She didn’t have it easy, made mistakes, hit bottom at times, and then found the strength to get back on her feet. In fact, in many areas of her life she made wiser decisions than I did. She had less than I probably did at times and still made the best of it. She was tough, fiercely independent, and at times stubborn in her ways, yet she kept persevering while raising her two boys. In the period when she could still speak, she faced the reality that she was going to die and, rather than shrink from it, she accepted it and took the bull by the horns. She began methodically organizing her life and putting things in order because she did not want anyone left behind to worry about anything. I watched her come to grips with the inevitable, and my respect for her grew enormously, because truth be told, I doubt I would have behaved that way. She taught me resilience, clear decision-making, and a sense of intentionality—traits I once thought I knew but truly recognized only after watching my sister. That experience changed my life completely.

WHAT WE TAUGHT OUR KIDS

My wife and I have always taught our kids that family is extremely important. While they might disagree with one another from time to time, they are never allowed to reject, disconnect from, or stop talking to each other for any reason. We raised them to protect one another and to love one another unconditionally—something that was lacking in my own childhood household. We had experienced a path of division, and we believe it is a parent’s responsibility to instill unity in their children. We also taught them that if you feel like you are the only one working to maintain a relationship, then that person doesn’t truly care for you. Love should always be mutual, balanced, and reciprocal—not one sided. To reinforce that in our family, we encouraged them to show love to each other consistently, through words and actions, no matter what challenges arose.

My sister taught me that I must “hold on loosely,” a lesson I first heard from my friend and author Pablo Giacopelli in his book “Holding on Loosely.” We need to hold on loosely to the past, to pain, and to old hurts. She lived that idea: she forgave without pretending everything was erased, she didn’t forget entirely, she acknowledged her own faults without excusing others, and she treasured the time we had by making sure she made peace with me.

Before my sister lost the ability to communicate, cancer had already taken her voice weeks before she passed. She asked me to make several promises to her in those final days. I kept my word, and I intend to live out those promises and honor them for the rest of my life. I miss her deeply.