The first anniversary of 9/11 was close to the death of my beautiful and aptly named sister, Linda.

At that time, I got “The Call,” the call we always fear will come and as it came, I realized that at some level, 1 knew it would always come way too early for my sister. “The Call” came as I was doing finishing touches on a 9/11 memorial service I was coordinating at the church where I was a co-minister with my husband. The call informed me that Linda, who had been in the hospital for eight days, had taken a turn for the worse, and it was not known how long she would live.

Linda had entered the hospital on 9/3/02, and on that day she began her recovery from alcoholism. I had called her that morning and she told me she was in severe pain because her husband   had left her. In the depth of pain, pain which she told me was so bad, she never knew one could hurt this bad, she turned to alcohol. Alcohol had been her best friend for many years. As do most alcoholics, she learned to deal with the bumps, bruises and tragedies of life by numbing the pain.

While in the hospital, she suffered tremendously. I believe that she did work through much of the pain she had experienced in this life so her soul could leave free so she could begin a new adventure in living. While in the hospital, the withdrawal period for her was as bad as any experience of withdrawal, I have ever heard of. It was, of course, so painful to see my own baby sister in this distress. Plus, because of her strength, and her need for independence, she had to have her hands tied down the entire three weeks she was in the hospital, or she would try to leave.

A year after her death, I still found myself, at times, not believing she was really gone forever as my sister. I still found myself calling to her as I did at the moment of her death: “Please don’t leave, please come back, please don’t leave, please come back, I need you, I want you, and I want you to know how wonderful you are, you never knew this because of the alcohol”. This phrase had been a mantra for me.

But I was able to move through this crisis in such a way, that I am truly more whole and well than before. I still have much pain about her death but I am able to talk about the pain over losing her so early in life (she was only 45); I am able to talk about my sister freely and I know how to deal with this pain when it bubbles up. It comes sometimes in a large way, and sometimes small, much as the waves in the ocean break in small and large patterns. Plus, I have found a way to help others move through times of grief as well.

Following my sister’s death, with the exception of two close women friends, I was unable to find anyone to really say anything to me that helped the deep and yet invisible wound Linda’s premature death had left in my being. The problem was that because I had no visible tears or rips in my flesh, no one knew of the pain and deep wounding that I was experiencing in my whole being.

I finally called a former therapist in the state of Michigan. (I had moved from Michigan four years before). I thought my extremely gifted therapist would help me process these seeming unbearable feelings. This expectation was wondrously wrong. Paul told me that I needed to secure a copy of the Grief Recovery Handbook, revised edition, by John W. James and Russell Friedman. He advised me to work through the book and as soon as possible to take the Grief Recovery certification training the Grief Recovery Institute offers and begin to help people the world over deal with grief.

I did get the book, I worked through it with my husband and two friends, and then I did the training. I have led grief recovery groups and have counseled many people on grief issues.

The beauty of this program for me is that I have always said my goal as a therapist is for my clients to heal the blocks that would keep them from making their dreams come true. I have discovered that the blocks for probably 95 percent of all people have to do with grief and recovery issues that were never dealt with. I knew Linda had a lot of grief issues to deal with but, try as I may, I was never able to help her get into recovery. Her desire to stop drinking was there 100 percent but her ability to know how to deal with insurmountable grief, the grief that was underneath and driving her need to drink, was absent.

I’m doing all I can to prevent another premature death of a sister, a daughter, a friend, a cousin, a wife, to the grips of addiction. I hope to remove the stigma of addiction, and help the world to know that we all use addictions to medicate the pain we do not know how to deal with that stems from grief and loss. I dedicate my grief work to my sister, Linda, my precious sister whose radiant light went out way too soon. I vow to not let her death be in vain.