Surviving The Death of a Sibling: Living through Grief when an Adult Brother or Sister Dies » (First Edition)

T.J. WRAY teaches religious studies at Salve Regina University in Newport, Rhode Island, and is the creator of www.adultsiblinggrief.com. She lives in Rhode Island with her husband and three children.

When T.J. Wray lost her 43-year-old brother, her grief was deep and enduring and, she soon discovered, not fully acknowledged. Despite the longevity of adult sibling relationships, surviving siblings are often made to feel as if their grief is somehow unwarranted. After all, when an adult sibling dies, he or she often leaves behind parents, a spouse, and even children—all of whom suffer a more socially recognized type of loss.

Based on the author's own experiences, as well as those of many others, Surviving the Death of a Sibling helps adults who have lost a brother or sister to realize that they are not alone in their struggle. Just as important, it teaches them to understand the unique stages of their grieving process, offering practical and prescriptive advice for dealing with each stage.

In Surviving the Death of a Sibling, T.J. Wray discusses:

• Searching for and finding meaning in your sibling's passing
• Using a grief journal to record your emotions
• Choosing a grief partner to help you through tough times
• Dealing with insensitive remarks made by others

Warm and personal, and a rich source of useful insights and coping strategies, Surviving the Death of a Sibling is a unique addition to the literature of bereavement.

The year my brother died, I forgot how to breathe.

Often it would catch me unaware, that terrible feeling that was suffocating-at work, at home, sometimes at night, as I tried to sleep. As if I had drawn a breath but simply forgotten how to exhale. "I think there's something wrong with me," I confided one afternoon to a colleague who had also lost a sibling. "Sometimes, my chest aches," I told her. "Like I'm holding my breath for too long. I feel light-headed and weak and I'm so tired. My eyes water and I have trouble thinking clearly and talking." She was silent for a moment and then said quietly, "You're okay; it's just the grief." But I wasn't okay.

The year my brother died, I forgot how to breathe, and no one seemed to notice. Oh, they might have noticed a bit at first, but after a few weeks I could be walking around with my face turning blue and no one would say a word. After all, it was only my brother; I should get over it.

My brother. In the stillness of the early mornings when I have the house all to myself, I can recall his face and the sound of his voice so clearly that I'm often surprised, when I wake from my reverie, by his palpable absence. Even after five years, the shock of it all comes in bright, hot flashes and I blink back tears. I still hug my sides and rock back on my heels every now and then and ask, "Why?" Never expecting an answer. But most of all, I just miss him.

I miss our long conversations about religion and philosophy and how both can make people either enlightened or judgmental. I miss our deep belly laughs about our older sister Linda, and how as a skinny teenage she used to wear six slips under her skirt to make her butt look bigger. I miss making jokes about our mother's latest hair color, with both of us then feeling the same slightly guilty surge of love for her that only siblings can share. I miss my brother's honesty, and the way he could tell me that I was wrong without ever hurting my feelings simply because he knew me so well. I miss that familiar feeling that I have had all of my life: the comfort of simply knowing that he was in the world.

Memories of the early days and months following my brother's death are a mixture of people, feelings, and indistinct events jumbled together in the general swirl of grief. There is often a surreal feeling attached to those early memories, as if they had happened to someone else. There are also painfully vivid and detailed memories that jump out of the haze, like little vignettes, in which I appear as a person merely playing myself in some bizarre, terrible drama. I look back on my grieving self with great sadness, wishing that I could step back in time and offer her comfort. But that grieving me did not feel entitled to her grief and almost certainly would have rejected any overture. Indeed, within days of my brother's death I learned an important lesson. I learned that no matter how paralyzed with grief an sorrow I might have felt, society does not recognize the death of an adult brother or sister as a major loss. Comprehending this, I retreated into the shadows, a place where most other surviving brothers and sisters go to mourn, and waited for the sadness to pass.

Subjects

Christianity All Religion General & Miscellaneous Religion
Parenting & Family Family Issues Family Tragedies
Religion Books All Religion General & Miscellaneous Religion
Self Improvement Emotional Healing Coping & Healing
Self Improvement Emotional Healing Death, Grief & Bereavement
Self Improvement Inspiration Religious Inspiration - General
Self Improvement See All Self - Improvement
Christianity Christianity All Religion
Nonfiction Religion All Religion
Religion Books Christianity All Religion