In order to truly know happiness, you must know sadness

On 24 July 2001 my heart broke. It has never properly healed. It has a great, big Natasha shaped hole in it.

Twenty years ago, my youngest sister, Natasha Ann Divich (Tash), died from meningococcal septicemia in the intensive care unit of Auckland Hospital. She was admitted to hospital on 15 July, placed in an induced coma and she never regained consciousness. All the indications were that she would pull through but the day before she died she had a double leg amputation and an infection subsequently overwhelmed her. This happened to my clever, sardonic, gorgeous, witty, courageous, active, outdoorsy sister. It was brutal and unfair. She was only 22 years old and completing her Masters degree in geology at Auckland university. She had her whole life ahead of her. I was 30 years old and had recently returned to NZ after 4 years in the UK. The experience was so traumatic it left me with PTSD.

I became an adult overnight.

From the moment I watched Tash take her final breath I have tried to honour her by being courageous like her. I also developed a super power - if someone isn’t about to die, I am not going to get too stressed about it because nothing has ever been as bad as losing Tash and hopefully nothing will ever be that bad again. I survived it. It nearly broke me.

Around the same time, my ex and I separated. He couldn’t love me the way I needed to be loved. Tash’s final gift to me was that realistation. He was selfish and he could not deal with, or support me in, my sadness. It wasn’t his fault it was just who he was. He had shown me what he was like for 4 years and I had chosen not to believe him. There were many examples of his selfishness in the time we were together and my weakness was not to love myself more than I loved him. I should have cast him adrift years before I did. I was finally jolted into reality when I discovered he was cheating. Who does that to their bereaved partner? A person profoundly unworthy of me, that’s who.

Shortly after our break up I got an Abyssinian kitten, Amenti. She was the most amazing, affectionate companion. I adored her. It was mutual. She slept curled up under the covers next to me. She sat on my lap watching TV. She followed me around my little apartment in Herne Bay. I decided to move back home to live with my parents so we could support each other through the grief of losing Tash and I could save up to buy a house. Amenti went missing one weekend when I was up in Whangarei visiting dear friends. I subsequently discovered she had been hit my a car and killed. I was devastated all over again.

The upshot is that I am frequently praised for my resilience, strength and positivity. It has been hard won. I have known grief. And by knowing grief, I can know great joy. You cannot know one without the other.

Wise woman that Dita Von Teese. Gorgeous too.

It is true that my default setting is happy and positive. Negativity profoundly annoys me. I annoy myself when I descend into it. When I found myself profoundly sad I didn’t cope very well. It was bleak. I avoided people and places that reminded me of Tash. I had flash backs of her stay in the hospital.

I remember going to the nurses in ED in a panic because I’d noticed the sepsis rash on Tash when I’d taken her to the loo. It took me ages to forgive myself for telling her she’d be OK when I kissed her goodbye and told her I loved her before she was wheeled off to resuscitation to be lumber punctured. I went home, thinking it was all under control. It wasn’t. My parents called me to say the next 24 hours were critical and she may not make it. I was back in the hospital the next morning to be confronted with my sister unconscious on a ventilator. I quickly became the person tasked with talking to the doctors, going through my written list of questions with them and then translating what they had said to my family and Tash’s friends. It became obvious to me that my parents were comprehending only about 30% of what the doctors were telling us.

Tash made it through the first 24 hours. She was very damaged though. Her legs and some of her fingers had died. She stayed with us in her induced coma for 10 days. I remember washing her hair before she went to surgery to have her legs amputated and even as I write this 20 years later the tears are flowing. The doctors told us that her biggest risk was infection and that is what took her from us.

The priest came to administer the Last Rites. She died surrounded by the love of her extended family and boyfriend and listening to her favourite music. As she passed a beautiful rainbow appeared in the sky over the Mercy hospital where she was born. When I see a rainbow I always think of Tash. I was numb for quite awhile afterwards. I couldn’t sleep and when I did the nightmares came. I couldn’t eat. When my relationship broke up I sought professional help. I felt I was only just clinging to sanity.

So why am I telling you this? Firstly, my cancer challenge is nothing compared to losing my sister. I’ll get through it and continue to live my life and continue to honour her life. I have come to appreciate the slower pace of my life. To walk, listen to music, write, take photos, paint, talk on the phone, catch up with my friends and cook when I am well. I am watching copious quantities of TV (I never watch TV) and I love it - MasterChef, Parks and Recreation and I’m rewatching Sex and the City (in anticipation of the reboot And Just Like That). I am living in the moment more and hopefully I will slow down when I return to work. Secondly because by feeling unwell, I appreciate feeling well. I had the most amazing, joyous, 10 days feeling well, post my first round of chemo. I lifted weights with my PT, did Pilates with my physio, cooked lasagne, apple crumble and coq au vin and ate them with relish. I had a facial, went to work, walked on the beach, explored caves with my daughter, went to the cupcake shop bought two cupcakes without guilt and ate them! Feeling well is such a blessing and I have taken it for granted. To truly appreciate being well you need to feel unwell.

Here are some joyous photos from by most recent beach walk and cave exploration:

Life is all about learning and growing. My current struggles will pass and I will be left stronger, kinder (maybe?) and with a greater appreciation of the gift that life is. I shall leave you with this thought…

And when I see a rainbow I will continue to smile, think of Tash and know she is near me. 🌈