50 for 50, Part 15: Leaning into Grief – The Journey Toward Recovery After Losing a Brother to Suicide and a Father to Dementia

In the span of less than a year, I found myself grappling with two profound losses: my brother's suicide and my father's death after a long battle with dementia, alcoholism, and other vices. Both events brought an overwhelming tide of grief, confusion, and a profound sense of vulnerability. But within this vulnerability, I discovered an unexpected path toward healing and resilience. This article is not just a recounting of personal tragedy but an exploration of the active pursuit of recovery in the face of unbearable loss.

The Impact of Sudden Loss

The news of my brother's suicide was a shock that ruptured the fabric of my everyday reality. This was the second sibling I and my family had to bury. This one hit different. Suicide leaves survivors with unique challenges: the haunting questions of "Why?" and "What could I have done?" It introduces a complex mixture of emotions—guilt, anger, profound sadness, and even relief, all swirling in a tumultuous sea of grief. The suddenness of the loss, the absence of goodbyes, and the irreversible finality of the act create a wound that seems impossible to heal.

In coping with my brother's death, I learned the importance of acknowledging these conflicting emotions rather than suppressing them. Leaning into grief meant allowing myself to feel every raw, unfiltered emotion that came, understanding that grief is not linear but a cyclical process that ebbs and flows.

In the months after his death I learned that, although this unimaginable tragedy brought a ton of grief to me and my family and it required a good amount of alcohol for him to pull it off, he likely envisioned a life free from the endless challenges associated with Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), or what most people know as concussion syndrome. One of the hardest parts of the aftermath for me was to relay the message to my father. Why it was difficult, I’ll soon bring to bear. Although he displayed a general sense of empathy, my father had no idea I was reporting the death of his own son when I made the call.

Navigating Prolonged Illness and Loss

My father's decline due to dementia and alcoholism presented a different form of grief. It was a slow, painful goodbye, watching the man I knew fade away piece by piece. This prolonged anticipatory grief comes with its own set of challenges. The guilt of wishing it were over, the frustration with the disease, and the intermittent sparks of hope for a recovery that would never come.

Through this journey, I learned the value of presence—being there, even when it seemed like he was no longer with me. It taught me to cherish the moments of lucidity and connection, no matter how fleeting. My father's illness also forced me to confront and forgive his and my own imperfections, recognizing the complex human behind the vices and the disease.

The Active Pursuit of Recovery

Recovery from such profound losses is an active, ongoing process. It's not about "moving on" or "getting over" the grief but learning to live with it, incorporating the loss into the fabric of who we are. Here are some steps I took on my path toward healing:

1. Seeking Support

I reached out for support from friends, family, and grief support groups. Sharing my story and hearing those of others created a sense of solidarity and understanding that I wasn't alone in my pain. Professional therapy also provided a space to process my grief safely and develop strategies for coping.

2. Creating Rituals of Remembrance

Creating rituals to honor my brother and father (namely, a lot of Classic Rock . . . Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, Clapton, Little Feat, Dire Straits, and so on) helped keep their memories alive and provided a sense of closure. This could be as simple as lighting a candle on significant dates, visiting places that were meaningful to them, keeping certain remembrances of them (two awesome guitars are top of mind), or engaging in activities they enjoyed. These rituals became a way to celebrate their lives rather than focus solely on their deaths.

3. Channeling Grief into Action

Channeling my grief into action served as a powerful tool for healing. Whether through helping others with similar issues, advocacy, or creative expression, finding ways to make meaning out of loss helped transform my grief into a force for positive change in the world.

4. Embracing Vulnerability

Learning to embrace vulnerability was perhaps the most challenging but rewarding part of my journey. It meant allowing myself to sit with grief, get to know it deeply, to ask for help when needed, and to accept that it's okay not to be okay. This openness led to deeper connections with others and a more compassionate relationship with me.

5. Cultivating Resilience

Finally, this journey taught me more about the power of resilience—the ability to withstand and grow from adversity. It certainly reframed my impression of death. Whereas I once viewed death as this awful, tragic event to be dreaded, I learned to embrace it as a natural conclusion of life; one that in most cases is the end of the earthly road of the accumulation of choices we make. Resilience doesn't mean being unaffected by grief but rather finding ways to adapt and continue forward. It's about finding light in the darkness, hope in despair, and strength in vulnerability.

Conclusion

One of the great elements of my recovery, following my brother’s suicide, was a pact with my sister (featured in the photo with our brother) that we would make more time for each other and in the decade since his death we have honored that pact and it has become at least an annual imperative that we commune a few days at a time.

Leaning into grief and actively pursuing recovery is a deeply personal, often painful journey that looks different for everyone. It's a process that can unearth profound insights into our capacity for love, compassion, and resilience. While the scars of loss remain, they also serve as a testament to our ability to face the unimaginable and find ways to heal and grow.

To those walking this path, know that you are not alone. Grief can feel isolating, but it is also a universal experience—a profound reminder of our shared humanity. It's my hope that by sharing my story, others may find comfort, understanding, and perhaps a way forward in their own journeys of grief and recovery.