My sister, Kacy, died from an eating disorder ten years ago, March 11. As the date approached, I felt disbelief that it had been so long. I read through old journals remembering the incredible path I walked with grief. I was grateful my sadness was no longer layered with judgment, guilt, anger, anxiety, or blame. Instead, there was peace through my tears. It was a quiet reminder why I’ve chosen to become an advocate in this area and why I share my family’s story. Finding acceptance certainly was not easy. The years that followed her death were a time of indescribable pain. I think back on those first few days and feel tremendous compassion for my family. Each one of us experienced Kacy’s death very personally and quite differently. For me, it was a complicated time navigating a myriad of conflicting emotions. Not only had I lost Kacy but there was the loss of hope that had kept me going for years. I was devastated and hid my pain under a great deal of anger. Each morning I awoke conjuring up new ways to help Kacy only to remember she was gone. Being so enmeshed, such an enabler, I was
