The Golden Thread

A Sister’s Love, Resilience, and Strength

Liz was more than just a sister to me—she was my first piano teacher, my guardian, and, in many ways, a guiding presence throughout my life. From the earliest moments I can remember, Liz was always there, offering love and care in ways that left an indelible mark on me.

One of my earliest memories of Liz is from when I was about four years old. She used to give me horsey rides, lifting me with her legs as if I were riding a horse. We laughed and played together until her life shifted with the birth of my nephew. Though I felt a tinge of jealousy when her attention turned to him, I now realize how deeply she loved and cared for us all. As Toni Morrison wrote, “A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves—a special kind of double.” Liz truly was that for me—a reflection of care, responsibility, and love, even though our paths sometimes differed.

My mother often told me that Liz spent her first paycheck on me, buying me dresses and organizing my birthday party. I still have pictures from that time, surrounded by neighborhood kids, gifts, and the joy she brought to my early years. Liz had always been the responsible one, even when she took on the role of my piano teacher—though, admittedly, I sometimes pretended to have headaches to avoid the lessons! Yet, she was patient and always showed me how to play the pieces I struggled with. “Sisters are different flowers from the same garden,” as the proverb goes. In that sense, Liz’s patience and care were her own beautiful bloom, distinct but always nurturing.

When my parents moved to California, Liz stepped into the role of my primary guardian. She took care of my tuition, made sure I had a dress for prom, and celebrated my high school graduation with me. She did all of this while raising her own three children and dealing with her own struggles. Looking back, I can only imagine the stress she faced. But that was Liz—steadfast, dependable, and always there for her family. As Michael J. Fox said, “Family is not an important thing, it’s everything.” Liz embodied this sentiment, even when her own life was full of challenges.

Her life, however, wasn’t easy. Liz married young, and her husband’s instability added many challenges to her already full plate. They fought often, and at times, their home life became volatile. I still remember the day my nephew, barely five years old, stood between his parents, trying to shield his mother from his father’s attacks. It was a heartbreaking and traumatic experience for him and for all of us who witnessed it.

Despite all of this, Liz worked hard and showed incredible resilience. She raised her children while working as a music teacher in the Philippines, earning just $250 a month. Later, she moved to the U.S., where she took a nanny job in New York and was finally able to earn a more comfortable living. Her sacrifices and determination showed how much she was willing to endure to provide for her family and herself. As I think about this, I am reminded of the saying, “A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.” Liz was that golden thread in our family, holding everything together with her resilience and strength.

When our mother was diagnosed with cancer in 2005, Liz once again stepped up. She left her job in New York and moved to San Jose to care for our mom. Together, we took turns taking care of her, but Liz was the primary caregiver, always making sure our mom took her medication and managed her IV. I stayed with my mom to give Liz breaks, but she shouldered most of the burden. When our mother passed away, Liz took care of all the funeral arrangements—another example of her unwavering sense of responsibility. Through it all, she was the pillar of strength, and I would have been lost without her.

In the later years of her life, I made it my mission to give Liz the joyful experiences she deserved. I surprised her with trips—one to Palawan, where I secretly arranged for our other sister to join us. Watching Liz scream with joy and cry as she hugged Fe was one of the best things I’ve ever seen. We explored the islands and had karaoke nights, singing until our voices gave out. Another surprise was a trip to Singapore, where I arranged for her daughter, Pie, and our sister Fe to join us. The look on Liz’s face during these surprises was priceless, and I’m so grateful I was able to give her those moments of happiness. I also gave her other gifts, including money and an iPad, as small tokens of my gratitude for everything she did for me growing up. The joy she felt in those moments reminds me of something George Eliot once said: “What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life—to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.”

A Reflection on Resilience and Strength

Though Liz and I didn’t spend as much time together as we might have liked in our later years, the moments we did share were filled with meaning. I remember one particular conversation while we were sitting in a Starbucks in Brisbane, visiting our other sister. I asked Liz if she could do her life all over again, what would she change? Without hesitation, she said she wouldn’t have married early. I could tell there was a quiet sadness behind her words, though we didn’t go into her regrets in depth. Still, it was a moment that stuck with me.

That conversation, like so many of ours, was full of life updates and family matters, yet it gave me a glimpse into the quiet regrets she carried. Still, Liz never dwelled on her past. She approached life with gentleness and resilience, pushing through hardships with a quiet, enduring spirit. I learned so much from her—not just in her words, but in the way she lived. Even in her hardest moments, she persisted with strength and grace. As Pam Brown said, “Sisters never quite forgive each other for what happened when they were five,” and though our childhood may have had its bumps, I will always admire the woman Liz became and the lessons she taught me.

Life Lessons from Liz

Resilience in the Face of Hardship: Liz showed time and again that she could endure difficult situations and still rise above them. Whether it was navigating a turbulent marriage or working tirelessly to support her family, Liz’s strength was a constant in her life.
Sacrifice and Devotion: Liz consistently put the needs of her family before her own, from raising her children and taking care of me to becoming our mother’s primary caregiver. Her willingness to sacrifice for those she loved is a testament to her devotion.
Gratitude and Generosity: Despite the hardships she faced, Liz found joy in the simple pleasures of life. She was patient, gentle, and gave so much of herself to others—whether it was through her music teaching or in her role as a sister and mother.
Creating Joyful Memories: Even in the midst of challenges, Liz embraced the moments of joy that came her way. From our trips together to the special times she shared with her children and students, Liz understood the value of creating happy memories.
Endurance and Perseverance: Liz didn’t let the cards she was dealt define her. She found ways to thrive, working hard and enduring the struggles that life presented her. Her legacy is one of quiet strength and perseverance.
Love that Endures: Through all the hardships and challenges, Liz’s life was a testament to the enduring power of love—for her children, her family, and those around her. Her love continues to live on in the hearts of those she touched, including mine. The lessons she taught me about strength, sacrifice, and joy are ones I will carry with me always.

Final Thoughts

As I reflect on Liz’s life, I realize that she taught me so much about love, resilience, and what it means to care for others. Liz may have faced more than her share of struggles, but she met each challenge with a quiet strength that I will always admire. Even in moments when her life didn’t go the way she had hoped, she never gave up on the people she loved. I am grateful for the time we had together, for the lessons she taught me through her example, and for the joyful memories we were able to create.

Though she is no longer here with us, her spirit lives on in the ways she touched all of our lives. I can still hear her voice in the laughter we shared, feel her love in the care she showed to everyone around her, and see her strength in the memories that will always remain. Liz was, and always will be, my sister—a person whose love and presence shaped me in ways I will carry for the rest of my life.

Soul Path Insights