April 10, 2025
Today is National Sibling Day, so I’m going to share a story about my late sister and how she continues to shape my work.
First off, National Sibling Day itself: like many U.S. holidays, we tend to publicly celebrate what we have, not what we’ve lost. That can feel alienating to those of us who’ve known strained relationships or grief. Mother's Day looks different at the cemetery, right?
There’s life and there’s loss, and they’re both tangled up together. Understanding death can actually bring us closer to the sweetness of life. Like most things, it’s “both, and.”
My sister died when I was 13, just a month before high school. It was devastating—both for the immediate loss and for the ripple effect it had on my whole family. Early on, I realized life is short, and that sparked a fascination with what it really means to live well. Does that include spirituality? Does achievement guarantee happiness? Which tools do we have at our disposal to make life feel more fulfilling? Why is everyone around me miserable, and how do I do it differently?
My sister’s laugh was like sunshine, and she gave the warmest hugs. She held a light everyone gravitated to, but her share of darkness and struggle too. Both, and.
Back in 1998, we didn’t have much recorded of her voice—just some VHS tapes and an old-school answering machine. I can still feel how deeply she loved me, but as the years go by, the lilt of her laughter and the exact tone of her voice start to blur.
You can start to see what compelled me to start a mission to capture the voices of people telling others they care, with all the earnestness they can muster. Without my sister’s voice captured speaking to me specifically, I’ve always had to know - mostly in an intellectual way - she loved me.
Speaking of this mission, I’ve been in a dance with HiLU - it’s all about life - about active participation in relationship. About cultivating a practice of loving people out loud and telling people what they mean to us. So we have their voices later. And they, ours. But just on the other side of all this life and love, there is death and the inevitability of loss. People usually “get it” as soon as they recall a voicemail or recording from a loved one who’s passed. Maybe we can’t fully appreciate the light until we’ve tasted the darkness. Both, and.
So today, give thanks for whatever darkness has guided you to your light. Maybe there’s a sibling in your life—by blood or by choice—who makes everything richer.
Let someone hear your voice, your gratitude, and your memories. It’s a gift for them now and for you both in the years to come.