Nurturing Relationships with Those Who’ve Died

My birthday is on Sunday. If you’ve been around here a while, you might know that my birthday is often the day when I miss my sister the most. She was a champ at sending me the perfect birthday video, curating a just-right birthday package, and making me feel so special and loved.

Birthdays are one of those milestones that startle me with the reality of how much time has passed since she’s died. This will be my fourth birthday without Seester, and to be honest, I hate that. I hate that each year that passes makes it feel like she’s just a bit farther away.

For the first year or two after she died, I spent most of my time feeling like there were weights anchored to my chest, surrounded by a black cloud, absolutely sure that I would never be even the tiniest bit happy again. 

That was. . . awful.

But on the flip side, I also felt my sister close. Closer, to be honest, that I sometimes do now. This is one of the painful paradoxes of grief, and why it’s so easy to confuse connection and pain: in those early days/months/years, it hurt so much, but the pain felt like evidence of love.

I can get really anxious when I feel like my sister is further away and that my connection with her is fading as time passes. It’s not that I’ve forgotten her; I think about her every day. But thinking about her is different than being in relationship with her. Sometimes it’s hard to feel her close.

I’m realizing, though, that there is more at play here than the passage of time.

I’m realizing that part of the problem might be the extent to which I am (or am not) showing up in the relationship.

In the first year or two after my sister died, I made so much time for her. I wrote letters to her every single day for almost a year. I listened to some of the music that she loved. I watched her favorite movies. I got a tattoo to honor her. I wore her clothes and her jewelry. I talked about her all the time.

In other words, I invited her in. Daily, repeatedly, and in intentional ways.

It’s not that I never do any of these things; I still do. But I don’t do them in the same ways or with the same frequency.

I’m starting to understand that, just like relationships with the living, relationships with the dead are a two-way street. They require attention, love, intention, and dedicated time and space. They require showing up.

From a spiritual lens, think of this as keeping the lines of communication open and inviting your person in. From a brain science lens, think of this as fostering the brain connection between you and the memory of your person; our neurons strengthen around what we pay attention to.

Either way (or both ways), there is an active role for us to play in keeping our people close.

If I want to stay in a relationship with my sister – whatever that looks like – I have to show up as though I’m in a relationship. That means I can’t just wait to feel connected with her. I have to take the initiative and welcome her in.

I can write her a letter. I can watch one of the movies we loved to see together. I can take myself shopping and pick out something she might have tucked into a perfect package for me (maybe I’ll even mail myself a perfect birthday package!).

It won’t look the same as it did right after she died, and that’s okay. Relationships change and evolve over time, and this one will too. As it does, I have my own part to play in keeping things growing and thriving.

If your person is feeling farther away, how might you invite them in with more intention, love, and care? Knowing that relationships are a two-way street, how might you show up to nurture your connection?