My brother Johnny and I had a wonderful relationship. We could look at each other and communicate without words. We were great supports for each other since we were toddlers together. We both made each other feel like we always mattered. We were there for one another throughout our lives and had unconditional love.

When Johnny died of Covid-19 almost 6 years ago, I felt a good part of myself died too. Yet I felt his loss happened to my mother, which of course it did, and felt like my pain and grief did not matter. I put myself on the back burner and so did everyone else. Yet I found a sibling death devastating. I discovered sibling grief, especially when older, is often ignored, overlooked, minimized and disenfranchised . Yet my relationship with Johnny, my only sibling, was the longest relationship I shared with anyone since my father had passed and my mother had significant dementia. I lost someone who shared our deepest and earliest memories and years together. I was now an only child struggling for 6 years to manage a very ill mother with dementia without my brother. I was relieved that mother always thought Johnny was still alive and I would go along with her belief. I kept appropriately protecting my mother and often neglecting my own grief. I also continued to feel guilty that I made the decision to place my bother in a nursing home for short term rehabilitation following surgery. My brother had no partner so I was his Health Proxy. However I did not know that Covid-19 was significantly present in this nursing home and no one had warned Johnny or I. I still felt responsible that I failed him and should have sent him home with an aide and home therapists. The worse decision I ever made in my life. I sent him into a lions den of death.

Now when I know someone who lost a close sibling I understand their loss and I am there for them. I make sure I acknowledge their loss, their pain and their grief so it is not put on the back burner and neglected.