Earlier this week I wrote a post called “On Grief’s Tender Gifts“. While it seems counterintuitive, I’ve come to realize that grief does offer comforts, many of them deeply moving. Often they involve interactions with others and acts of kindness. In 2021, as we navigated our father’s illness and death, my sisters and I united in a way that resonates as yet another “tender gift of grief.”
Surely the collective noun for a group of sisters must be a blessing.
To My Sisters
It’s not that we weren’t close
or didn’t get along
but the crucible
of his illness
seared away our imperfections
forged us
into something powerful
unbreakable and true
Perhaps this was Dad’s
final tender gift
to us all
©Molly Hogan
This week the Poetry Roundup can be found on Elisabeth Norton’s blog, Unexpected Intersections. She’s sharing a wonderful, original poem highlighting what can be revealed when we “break routine and change directions.”
Nix the comfort zone 
Your poem is a gift to us readers, Molly. Sisters make the best friends. 🙂
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Absolutely beautiful. And, I have the good fortune to have also lived this blessing. My sisters are so very special to me…and so much more so after losing our Mom. Beautiful, Molly. As always.
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So beautiful and insightful, Molly – thank you for sharing.
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OMG! I just read your poem aloud to Hannah. Blown away in its beauty and insight. Be-you-tee-full!
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A “blessing of sisters” seems like all kinds of perfection. I have none by a birth mother, but treasure all the sisters-from-different-mothers I’ve gathered over the years.
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Beautiful and sensitive poem Molly, it’s truly a special gift that you all were brought together, thanks!
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I love the line in your poem, “but the crucible
of his illness” and “forged us into something powerful” as it points out the event influencing your relationship with your sisters. I have a sister too and I’ve found it so important to work with her as our parents age and experience health issues. A very relatable piece. Thanks.
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Molly, thank you for opening your heart to us. I will backtrack to read your other poem.
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Molly, I understand this fully having experienced my father’s illness and death with my siblings, a brother and a sister. They are gold to me now. And my brother continues to rise up to being there for my mother. Siblings matter. I’m grateful I was able to give my children this gift.
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