My sixty-five year old brother Johnny went into a hospital for surgery followed by short rehab in a nursing home three years ago and never came home. Because of the poor Pandemic preparation and poor infection control almost everywhere, he caught Covid and died.

He was a gentle and kind soul and we shared a most wonderful childhood as well as our teenage and adult years together. I lost so much of my past and future. Johnny was the one I was the closest to the most years of my life. Johnny was my confidant the most years of my life. For the most years of my life he was my best friend. Why does sibling loss and grief appear so neglected and underappreciated?