If you’re following my journey, you know that last year, I participated in an interview for the documentary “Let Me Win” (The History of the Special Olympics in Russia (supposed to be the World)). 

My younger sister, Irina, is the star athlete in it. Her dedication to sports is fascinating. Irina is a talented speed skater in the winter and rollerblader in the summer, not to mention her recent involvement with cycling and rowing in the Paralympics. 

My sister impressed me when I saw her at the 2009 Special Olympics World Winter Games in Boise, Idaho, for the first time since I left Russia in 2003. The media were interested in our story and our first reunion.

When I was invited to take part in the documentary project, I didn’t hesitate. It was An Amazing Opportunity to Be Seen and Heard. I shared my story and talked about our challenges growing up in a Russian orphanage (poetry “Turning Point”) and navigating life afterwards. 

But A Documentary Shooting about My Sister Opened Some Wounds.

Now, a year later, the emotional documentary “Let Me Win” is available on YouTube in Russian. We’re waiting for the film’s world premiere with English subtitles. Stay tuned! 

The documentary stirred some emotions. I saw my sister in a different light and heard HER story and outlook on certain life circumstances that I wasn’t aware of. I had more questions for Irina than answers.

In the interview, my response to the question about the next reunion was, “I have faith that we’ll see each other again, be it in 10 or 20 years, but we’ll find the way.” 

And here we are, a year after my response and exactly eight years since we embraced each other in person, reuniting in Panama, thanks to all our efforts.

Only close friends knew about this upcoming event to help me stay sane. I was a nervous wreck. It was my sister’s first big overseas trip alone, without money or English language skills, and a plane change in Turkey. 

Many questions circled in my head, especially how she would go through immigration without speaking English or Spanish. The thought of being unable to be by my sister’s side and help her was devastating. 

I worried she would feel abandoned by me, like when I left Russia in 2003 and wasn’t by her side, guiding her into adulthood. I felt responsible for her.

My need to stop stressing out kicked me in the butt. I was wearing myself down. 

It hit me only at the airport: “I’m doing myself a disservice. If I worry or not, it won’t help the situation.” 

Six hours of waiting felt like forever. 

Luckily, a passageway connected my sister and our terminals. My husband was accompanying me on this trip, and our airplane company’s lounge was next to my sister’s arrival gate, so I could watch her plane’s landing.

My sister’s airplane just landed. Yeah!

We were all exhausted from long waits or flights and anxious for a precious moment of reunion when Irina stepped out of the gate.

When I hugged Irina and looked into her gray eyes, I didn’t recognize them. A grown woman stood in front of me. Was it really that long since we last saw each other in person? Eight years! Mamma Mia! 

It was surreal. It wasn’t the same as talking through video chat. This time, Irina was right next to me in flesh and blood. 

Everything after the reunion happened as if it were divinely orchestrated.  

There was no line for immigration. The officer let my husband translate from Spanish to English. And I translated from English to Russian. It was a relief when I was allowed to go with my sister to her baggage claim. And my husband went to a different terminal’s immigration to pick up our bags.

The rest is history.

It was my first time vacationing with my sister. Our exciting eight days were eventful and challenging. It took us a few days to get used to each other and accept our individual choices without criticism.

Irina and I were healing while having a deeper connection, revealing some struggles and triumphs. And most importantly, we had fun times together. 

My sister Irina and I are goofing around on the beach of Panama.

The last day was fast approaching. Irina and I hugged and gave each other goodnight kisses. “Spokoinoi nochi, dorogaya.” (Good night, dear.) Reality hit me with tears. 

It was heartbreaking that we had to go our separate ways. 

It was heartbreaking that we had to go our separate ways.

When will we see each other again? I want to guide and protect my younger sister. But I have to let her live her OWN life and be there for her whenever she needs me. 

My sister, husband, and I made this trip happen. We trusted each other in this tortuous process and in the Universe. And I’ve learned to surrender and work with my mind’s inner chatter. This journey of faith was healing and eye-opening.