Changed

By: Jane Tainow Feder

I’ve read a fair amount of uplifting, depressing, some relatable essays and poems about grief since my kid sister died six months ago. What resonates with me are those that acknowledge I’m changed by my sister’s death. I’m changed in every way I can think of.

Although I’m an above average functioning almost 84-years-old woman, since Temma died, everything hurts. And because I’m almost 84, MRIs, X-rays, ultrasounds confirm bone-on-bone knee; hip is almost there. Torn rotator cuff needs a complete shoulder replacement.

A thoughtful and kind orthopedist cautioned me; when grieving, one’s tolerance for pain is significantly reduced. I get that! He suggested alternative treatments to surgery while I continue to…yes…grieve. I agree ‘cause I’m not used to everything hurting. I’m changed.

I’m a Leo, zodiac sign. I’m the kind who likes people, sunshine, spotlight, celebrations. I thrived, was loved and successful as a teacher. I danced and was a cheerleader. I fenced and taught yoga. I go for the gold! I like to lead and recognize that I can and some can’t and that’s okay. I’ll shine and brighten your world. That will make me very happy.

I’ve changed. The last six months I just want my dog, my sister, my children. I’m avoiding people, gatherings, parties. I’ve begun to meet one person at a time. That mostly works. I have no patience for silliness, for trite. I like being indoors alone, nesting. I’m changed.

I’ve taken to lighting the sabbath candles Friday nights, and reciting the mourner’s prayer nightly. I created an altar: a few sparkly glass objects Tem loved and a tiny urn with her and her pets’ ashes. I’m linking to tradition, to ancestors. I’m making sure my sister is okay, protected by my recitations. I’m changed.

A dark cloud haunts me. Rain drowns me. Flowers are colorless. Birds are screeching. The sun is piercing.