My dad and sister died 19 days apart. My other siblings helped me with my grief.

• After my parents divorced, my dad had more kids, but we were all raised as siblings.
• When my dad and one of my sisters died, my other siblings helped me deal with the grief.
• I will thank my dad eternally for making sure we were all close.

Within 19 days, I experienced both the sudden death of my baby sister and my father. Even though my five siblings and I had different mothers, we all shared the same father, who fostered close connections with us from a young age.

Although we grew up apart, we spent holidays, birthdays, and summers together throughout our lives and have come to love each other deeply. I never called my two brothers and sister from another mother my "step" or "half" siblings; they are just my brothers and sister.

My dad visited often

When my parents divorced, I was 7, my middle sister was 5, and my baby sister was only 2.

Shortly after they were separated, my dad left New York to move to Mexico for a job. He ensured that his contract required the company to cover the plane fare for us three to fly several times a year for visits. That's why when he remarried and had children with my stepmom, we became close with our new brothers and sister.

All of us six children got along well from the start. It was as if we were all part of the same symphony, constantly creating synchronized, lovely music. When we were teenagers, Dad would rent houses for us to enjoy in Mexico during Christmas, and after he moved back to the US, he'd rent houses for us to enjoy Thanksgivings in Florida and eventually family reunions in upstate New York. During these times, we cooked, danced, walked, and did yoga together.

As we all grew up, we started our adult lives on opposite coasts. But we still often fly or drive to spend time together. We talk on the phone regularly, processing marriages, divorces, and our own children's challenges.

My siblings showed up for me

When our sister, Jenny, was in the ICU dying, my brothers and sister dropped everything to be with me and my middle sister, here in California. My sister, who lives in Idaho, was able to join us at the hospital within hours. Me, my two sisters, and other nearby family held hands while Jenny transitioned. My brother, who lives in Washington, D.C., arrived within days. My other brother's flight from Florida was canceled that day, but he joined us virtually.

Having the support of my four other siblings within days of Jenny's passing made grieving bearable. My out-of-town brother and sister stayed for ice cream nights, meals where we shared our funniest Jenny stories. They knew Jenny and I were like one neuron with two bodies, so my sisters and brothers called me daily in the following weeks to check on me.

Shortly after our dad died

When my dad learned of Jenny's death, it was as if a dart shot into his heart. Crying, he told one of my sisters, "I'm done, I'm calling it." Eighteen days later, he was gone. The five of us remaining offspring were stunned. Within hours, my two brothers and sister booked flights again and jumped in and helped create slide shows, music lists, programs, and planning two celebrations for one weekend.

During this stressful process, we never fussed or disagreed. Three of my siblings are agnostic, yet Jenny's trust specified her celebration of life be held at our Soka Gakkai International Buddhist Center, where the mantra we chanted, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, would occur. She also specified that everyone wear colorful clothing and that R&B music be played. Everyone agreed on it all. I noticed at her service that my brothers, sister, and their kids, who are not Buddhist, joined in the chanting to honor Jenny. Each of my sisters and brothers spoke in front of the 150 people present, praising Jenny's irreverent spirit.

Dad didn't want any service. Still united, we decided to honor him by gathering at a local hotel and watching a slideshow of our favorite memories with him, spanning eight decades. We opted to tell our favorite stories about Dad that day.

During the weekend, the five of us hiked, swam, cried, and mourned together. While those two days were sad, they were also joyful because we were together. Belly laughter filled the hours, too. The cascade of care from my clan transformed what could have been a sad month into a time of endearment. Whenever we are in the same place, it's as if waves of happiness wash over us.

That intense month brought the five of us closer. I thank Dad eternally for making sure we six bonded as kids so that our love would last forever.