My resilience was forged in the aftermath of the greatest heartbreak I’d ever known—losing my only sibling, Yosef—which shattered my world and led me on a journey of profound personal transformation, reshaping my career and life’s purpose.
Yesterday, we celebrated his birthday. Today, he’s gone.
My only sibling.
It was 6:30 pm ET on 9/11. I left my brokerage like any other day, and my husband is picking me up as usual. We chatted about work, winding our way through the dense Brickell and Downtown Miami traffic. I felt optimistic—another real estate deal in the works was promising.
Then, my phone rang.
It was my brother calling on FaceTime. He was never one for phone calls. He preferred being there—in person—watching a funny movie together or going for a bike ride on a beautiful day.
On that call, I noticed the golden hour glow settled on him as if painting a memory, outlining his face in a way I’d never seen before. He looked angelic, I thought.
He told me he was heading to our grandparents’ house, meeting our uncle to take care of 17-year-old Slinky, the remaining of our uncle’s three dachshunds.
It was such an ordinary moment, nothing to make me think this was the last time I’d ever speak to him.
‘Let me know when you get to grandma’s. Love you,’ I said, and he did.
Three hours later, my father called.
What came next shattered life as I knew it.
No soft words, no hesitation—just the truth. My father informed me of the unimaginable, and within minutes, my husband and I were on the hour-long drive north, the blinding full moon guiding me to my grandparents’ house as I struggled to make sense of his passing.
That September 11th, 2019, wasn’t the one the world remembers. It was my own personal 9/11—the day after my brother’s newly minted 32nd birthday. Joy and celebration are instantly crushed by tragedy.
The following hours, weeks, and months… they blurred. The sort of blur that makes the room spin when you close your eyes. The type that wakes you up in the middle of the night gasping for air. One question circled my mind: ‘What is happening? What is happening?!’ A relentless, ceaseless loop lasting months. Years, maybe?
And then, as if the universe had one more cruel twist to offer, the world shut down six months later. A global pandemic, loss, and grief take turns to hammer the final nail into the coffin of what life used to be.
We were buried—in uncertainty, loss, and soul-crushing heartache.
Until one day, I realized we were seeds.
In the following years, I embraced my “un-becoming era”—unlearning old patterns and molting what no longer served me. Death and loss had already taken so much, so I chose to start guiding the changes in my life, reclaiming a sense of agency when so much felt out of my control.
This deep inner work, catalyzed by grief’s alchemizing force, reshaped my values, redefined my boundaries, and set me on an entirely new path, aligning me with who I was becoming.
Making a full career pivot a couple of years shy of turning 40 is no small feat. It required learning a new industry, mastering new technologies, trusting myself in a new capacity, and adopting entirely different ways of thinking and working. From selecting the right equipment to hosting and producing an audio/video podcast, from completing Megan Devine’s Grief Care Certification program to speaking engagements and leading grief circles, each step has been a learning experience.
Along the way, I discovered strength in vulnerability—learning to share openly in public spaces and developing the skills to hold space for life’s most difficult moments. By creating room for these deeply personal experiences and transformative conversations, I aim to redefine how we talk about and approach grief, sparking a ripple effect that reaches far beyond the individuals I work with directly.
As one of the few podcasters in the U.S. focusing on grief, and as a Latina, I offer unique perspectives that challenge societal norms, which too often mute these experiences.
‘Unbecoming’ to align with who I was becoming felt like growing new roots in the damp, dark soil—where the sun’s warmth is sensed but not yet seen.
Resilience is often misunderstood as bouncing back from adversity, but I’ve come to know it as something much deeper and more transformative. It’s about expanding our capacity to hold the magnitude of life’s experiences as they are, not just as we wish them to be.
My resilience was forged in the aftermath of the greatest heartbreak I’d ever known—losing my only sibling, Yosef.
I never imagined that grief would become such a central theme in my life or my career. However, grief has become my greatest teacher. It was an unwelcome one at first, but one that guided me to see life through its powerful lens.
Grief commands our attention, refusing to be swept aside. And in a grief-avoidant world that moves on too quickly, I found myself suspended, grappling with the isolation and soul-crushing weight of my loss. But in time, I learned that grief, while agonizing, could also open the door to deepening sacred connections—with myself, with others, the world around me, and with Spirit—when I choose to lean in.
I found resilience thrives in community, shared experiences, and the quiet empathy that comes from simply holding space for one another’s pain. The loss is unique, but we don’t have to walk this path alone.
We don’t ‘get better’ or ‘move on.’ Instead, we expand our capacity to carry grief, allowing it to fully transform us as we embrace life. We learn to coexist with the pain and joy (felicitreza, as I call it) and thrive in the both/and. We learn to bloom.
It’s said every person has two deaths—when they are buried, and the last time someone says their name. The space between these two deaths is considered a legacy.
Today, I carry Yosef’s legacy and “love light” forward in the form of the Grief and Light Podcast through my direct work with grievers and the everyday moments that remind me of our eternal sibling bond.
My resilience strengthened when I embraced my grief with heart-centered curiosity, allowing it to transform me. Through inner work and a career pivot, I reclaimed agency over my life, finding strength in vulnerability and connection within my community.
As I often say, grief is not this OR that; it’s this AND that. Lean into it with heart-centered curiosity, allow it to transform your life, and expand your capacity to live in the both/and. Show yourself grace as you grow into who you are becoming.
Are you ready to share your story of RESILIENCE? You can do that HERE.