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ONE
Today I am proud to present a guest post (following this one) by a classmate of long ago, Margaret Mauro, who lost her beloved sister, Dorothy on September 11, 2001, at the World Trade Center. Losing a loved one hurts terribly, of course. Each relationship and loss of that relationship brings unique feelings and issues to the surface for us.
I want to first discuss the loss of a twin, not only because Margaret and her sister, Dorothy, are much on my mind on this 9/11 Anniversary, but because I know another adult twin who has recently suffered a loss of a different type.
This person was forced to make some difficult decisions about his relationship with his twin. In the end, he chose himself and his own survival out of a desire to lead a more healthy, more functional life that is not continuously being dragged down by a twin refusing to get the help he needs to change his own life.
Nonetheless, it is a still a significant loss. I believe that my friend, in his own grief journey, may need to create a different definition of himself as he adjusts to living without regular interaction with his brother. As strange as it may sound, since is brother is alive and living nearby, he may need to fashion some type of symbolic event that allows him to say goodbye to what was, and to commit to what is and what will be. Even in his case there will be painful memories, poignant ones, and pleasant ones as he looks back, and his new life may feel odd and uncomfortable, in spite of the stress his past twin identity has entailed.
In the article that Margaret Mauro wrote, she will discuss her grief process, and how she finally created a healing ritual to aid her in moving on. I think this piece will be helpful to others who have experienced a loss that hurts them deeply.
Margaret certainly didn’t get a choice about losing her sister. As you will read, they were incredibly close and part of each other’s lives on a daily basis, though they lived far apart. Margaret struggled with her feelings and, I am sure still does. Losing loved ones hurts us deeply. Somehow, in our pain, we must seek and find a way to go on.
There is a kind of bond with our siblings that has to do with shared experiences from childhood. It doesn’t matter much how close we were or weren’t to our siblings. The people in our immediate family are the protagonists of our earliest stories. We build our future stories on the foundation of our early relationships. Even when we are adults, the loss of a sibling shakes up our concept of family stability and security, that we hold in our memories. This concept may have been there in reality, or in some cases, is merely what our memories need to fashion to comfort us.
Twins generally have bonds that are very strong. They may be truly close as kids and as adults, and may share many habits and passions. They may have a highly developed sense of intuition and empathy about each other’s needs. On the other hand, the twin relationship may foster a sense of competition that people never outgrow. Twins share many common traits but can also be surprisingly different, and they may resist parents’ practices of either trying to make them more alike, or of measuring them against each other. The reality is that the twin bond is something most of us don’t understand because we haven’t lived with it.
When the person with whom you shared space in utero, and with whom you entered and traveled through the world, either in harmony, or in discord, dies or is lost to you in some way, there is usually a great deal of grief. There is also much adjusting and needing to find a way to continue in the world as a single person, rather than with the twin identity.
When we lose a loved one, we are often in a state of shock and numbness initially, even when we have expected the person to die. Some people are able to be creative right after a loss. It can comfort them to design a funeral service or memorial that gives them and others the opportunity to remember the deceased person communally. They may include prayers, music, poetry and rituals that were enjoyed by the person they lost, or that embody that person’s spirit in some way. When we create rites and ceremonies that have personal significance to us, and are related in some way to the person we have lost, this can help us enormously. We may not be able or ready to do this soon after the loss, though. It is never too late to find a way to construct a ritual that serves the purpose of honoring the one we lost, and helping us to commit to the future, even without this person.
I send this out, then, in memory of Dorothy, in honor of Margaret and her survivor’s spirit, and also in honor of the other friend, with hopes that he will find his way in this not-always-easy world of ours.
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TWO
Picking Up the Pieces After 9/11
by Margaret Mauro, printed here with permission, written 2 ½ years Dorothy’s death.
After 2 ½ years I look back to the events of 9/11 and wonder how I got through losing half of me. I lost my twin sister, my best friend, my confidant, and the person I shared 55 years of my life with. Even though Dorothy lived in Brooklyn and I live in a suburb outside of Nashville, we visited each other 4 times during the year, and we spoke on an average of 10 times a day. The weeks and months after 9/11, I existed, I wasn’t living. My main thoughts were getting my life in order and wrapping up what was left of my sister Dorothy’s life. I don’t remember much of the first year, only that I had to do a host of unpleasant tasks.
In November of 2001, I made one of the most important choices that probably helped me change the course of my life. I decided to seek professional help. I was having recurrent nightmares of the planes hitting the buildings, problems sleeping, and problems concentrating. I consider myself very lucky I found the most caring, compassionate therapist that helped me get through some of the roughest times of my life– the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, our birthday and the first anniversary.
I think the most difficult time was our birthday, which is just 12 days before 9/11. First I thought I would just ignore that day, and discussed this with my therapist. She told me if I didn’t celebrate our birthday it would be like Dorothy never existed. So I celebrated my birthday and Dorothy’s memory by hosting an open house. I invited all my friends who sustained me in the days and weeks after 9/11. I also invited a sister who lost her brother on 9/11. After having birthday cake, (which I had 2 pieces of, one for me and one for Dot) my guests and I went out to the front yard and set free helium balloons. I ordered 56 helium balloons– the age Dot would have been, and the age I had reached without her beside me. On some of the balloons I wrote some of my thoughts and on one I attached a recent picture of Dorothy. We all watched as the balloons took flight and I imagined my sister smiling down on me. So now every birthday I honor my sister’s memory by releasing helium balloons.
During 2001 and 2002 I made many choices that helped me get through my grief journey. I had to find some positive things to come out of the events of 9/11. I realized none of us are guaranteed tomorrow or the next day. Many of my friendships became stronger, and I finally understand how important it is to tell people you love them now while they are still with us. This was something Dot and I didn’t do very often. I learned how important laughter in my life is, so I make sure I do it as often as I can.
I did a great deal of reflection on the direction I wanted my life to take. After continuing to work at my job through 2001 and part of 2002, I decided I needed to do something I really enjoyed doing. I want to live life to the fullest and be an active participant, for me and for Dot, rather than just an onlooker.
Neither my sister or I ever married, and we always promised to take care of the other in the event something horrible happened. Well my horrible day came, only too soon. Because of 9/11, I was able to retire early and find something I could do with a passion. In November of 2002 I started my own pet sitting business, which was slow in taking off, but I loved being around the dogs and cats. I also started volunteering as a reading tutor at one of the local elementary schools. I felt this was my way of giving something back. After 6 months of volunteering in an unstructured environment, I realized I wasn’t happy doing this. I started looking for a different volunteer opportunity, and I came across the Lupus Foundation looking for someone to do general office duties. I thought I would give this a try and it has been a good fit for me.
My journey is not quite over; I am still in therapy, which has helped me to grow and understand myself, better. I still miss my sister a great deal; there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her. But I have 55 years of beautiful memories to sustain me, until it’s my turn to leave this earth. My sister is now one of God’s Angels and I know she is with me every day. People die, but the love we have for them continues.
