Rest in Peace, Dear Sis
The Good, The Great, and The Sad
My sister Sue passed away on Easter Sunday. The non-medical cause of death was a broken heart. She lost her husband John on Easter Sunday last year, and a year without him was long enough for Sue.1
The Good
I have a unique and special relationship with each of my seven siblings. Sue was my partner in clown. We all had fun as a family, but Sue and I took it to another level, mostly for the amusement of each other. As much as I enjoyed the buzz of our larger family get togethers, Sue and I enjoyed withdrawing as a pair and sharing a laugh. Sue is a blunt, even crass, individual, and I picked up a healthy amount of irreverence from my 3rd sister. Jokes were welcome on all solemn occasions, even funerals. It wasn’t meant in disrespect, but rather about building our bond and helping each other through the awkwardness of the situation.
Sue was my movie buddy. Good movies were better with Sue. In Star Wars, both Sue and I fell in love with Harrison Ford (Sue’s crush on Sean Cassidy had run its course, and she was looking for a new crush. My love of the Lone Ranger had run its course, and I was looking for a better hero.) So when Raiders of the Lost Ark came out, Sue and I were first in line. “Gusts of wind and tongues of fire” was a phrase I kept saying after the movie, referring to the ark of the covenant scene. And Sue teased me about it ever since. (My final words to my sister included that line with a laugh. 🤗)
Bad movies became funny movies with Sue. Jaws 3D and Streets of Fire were quite painful movies to sit through. But thanks to Sue, they left a hilarious mark. As Sue’s body began to fail, with me being too far away to get to her in time, my solution was to make a Sue playlist and start playing it. And when Streets of Fire’s “Nowhere Fast” came on, I tried to belt it out the way Sue and I had done every time we listened to it together … sadly, I only got through the first line. 😢
Christmas and Easter were two holidays that excited me beyond sleep. Sue was my guaranteed all-nighter companion, huddled together in either of our bedrooms quietly sharing stories so that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny didn’t hear us. Eventually I would pass out, and (I’m sure relieved), Sue would happily finally get some rest.
When Sue’s husband passed away, I went home for the funeral, and then spent several days with Sue, along with my brother John and sister-in-law Christine. Among our adventures during this time was a walk through our old neighborhood together. This is the last walk I ever took with my sister, because the next time I came to town was six months later, and her health had already quickly deteriorated. At her passing, I said the same thing that I said about Hobbes: fast beats slow.
I miss my sister, but I know she’s in a better place … and resting in peace.
The Great
I have already talked about the appreciation I have for my seven siblings2. “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” There are countless instances of our siblings calling us together in our adulthood, perhaps the earliest being the construction of my sister Beth’s deck on her brand new townhouse in Maryland, followed by a family get together.
If my siblings had just given me a great childhood, I would have already been thankful beyond words. But what I continue to get is the gift of a living and growing family bond that gets stronger every year. We do our share of reminiscing, but we are also constantly building new memories.
My brother John started a tradition (accidentally?) by calling us all together to surprise brother joe for his 50th birthday. 14 years later, that particular tradition ended when I reached my 50th … and then we moved on to the next tradition.
Relationships are living things. Nurture them and they grow. What I have with my seven siblings (now six 😢) has carried me through some very tough times. What Sue’s passing has reinforced with me is the need to double down on this, and savor it even more than I already do.
A week after Sue’s passing, six of the remaining seven of us got together for a family wedding of one of our 15 offspring. As I climbed aboard the flight to return to Seattle, I texted the “Bogdan Sibs” group: “Such a great weekend, family. Every visit with you is a true gift. Love you all.”
Be the architect of moments that matter3. As Peterson said, “Keep the relationship alive. Living things die, after all, without attention.”4 Never take long term relationships for granted. They are your foundation, whether you realize it or not.
The Sad
The first two sections of this post were the easy part. I sat down and wrote those in 30 minutes. But my weeklong writer’s block that followed Sue’s passing was due to this third section. Sue’s story would be incomplete without this section. So I kept pushing on the block and, eventually (at 9pm on a plane after my Bogdan family visit), I broke through.
I lost Sue finally at 1am on Sunday, April 5, 2026. But I lost Sue initially at 3pm on some afternoon in 1999 (or maybe it was 2000) … when she fell down the stairs in her townhouse and ended up in the ER. I visited her a few weeks later when she was rehabbing in cognitive care. The good news is that this low point didn’t last too long. The bad news is that the full Sue never returned.
Sue was an alcoholic, and given the healthy dose of stubbornness that runs in our family’s genes, there was nothing and no one that could stop her. Despite the excessive drinking that led to her fall down the stairs, she was not dissuaded from continued drinking. Lying in the ICU in her final hours, she was asking for alcohol.
Sue and I created thousands of memories over our first 30 years together. After her fall, all we ever did was reminisce. Our relationship wasn’t a living thing anymore; it was in stasis. Sue stalled. It may be crass for me to speak this, but given that Sue taught me irreverence, it seems fitting: I lost my Sue decades before she breathed her last breath.
Every sibling birthday party was accompanied by the drama of Sue’s arrival. She missed exits, turned herself around, got herself frazzled, and inevitably we had to talk her down and guide her in for the landing. And our time together with Sue was fine up until the moment that it wasn’t. And no one, including Sue, had any idea when that was coming.
The lesson that Sue taught me in all of this is the significance of compounding effects. Interest compounds … but so does debt. You can stack good on good, for your own longevity. Or you can stack bad on bad, for your own demise. So make sure you point your ship in the right direction, otherwise every action is taking you farther away from your own ideal.
Addiction is lethal in the slowest and most painful way. Addiction is individual bad decisions, compounding to bury you in their aggregate. You focus on the combined weight of thousands of bad decisions, but the fundamental shift is to focus on stopping the next bad decision. That’s the only winnable fight.
My sister never asked for help, and rejected our offers of advice. Addiction lures you into isolation. And to the extent that stubbornness is involved, this isolation can be strengthened to the point of it being an unfortunate fortress of solitude. It’s not weak to ask for help. It’s strong.
I’ve been missing most of my sister for the last three decades. Now I’m missing the rest of her.
“I’m not afraid to die. I’m not afraid to live. And when I’m flat on my back, I hope to feel like I did.” - U2, “Kite”
“Get busy living, or get busy dying.” - Andy Dufrane, “The Shawshank Redemption”
Footnotes
The “Share a love story” section of Lead with Love
The “Love is a verb” section of Love It Or Leave It