Nobody tells you that when you lose a sibling, your entire childhood flashes before your eyes. There’s no better witness to what you experienced growing up than that one person who was standing nearby for all of it. And when they’re gone, a part of that childhood and a part of that story goes with them, because it was only ever known between the two of you.
There’s no last chance to say, “Remember when?” or to laugh about the things that made you laugh to tears together, a million times at the kitchen table. There’s no last conversation about the things you both knew about your inner world, the place where you grew up, the place you both called “home.” There’s no last chance to watch that favorite movie you loved, the one you watched over and over together every summer. So you hang onto the memory of the very last time it played and how much you loved watching it together, even as adults.
When a sibling passes, you want to remember everything. And for a while, you can’t get past the last few years. But eventually, as the grief lightens, your heart opens up a window to the past, and the memories come flooding through. You remember their laughter and their sense of humor, because you heard it every day. You remember them asking you for advice, and all the conversations you had over the years. You remember their interests and what their favorite things were, because you looked at the walls of their bedroom any time you hung out, and they always wanted to show you what meant the most to them in their life. You remember playing sports with them in the driveway and how they kept those sports as passions well into adulthood. Or watching a movie with them at the end of a long day, the one they wanted you to see for the longest time.
You remember old friendships because when you were younger, your sibling was always around. Some of those friends will reach out to share their memories and stories with you. And you’ll be so grateful they did, and for the picture they’ll help you create of the past, the world where you grew up.
Nobody tells you how heavy the grief will be. How in the beginning, you won’t be able to laugh or feel anything but how much it hurts. Or how you’ll immediately start looking through old photos and piecing together your life with them. Nobody tells you it may take a couple of weeks, but then one night before bed, you and your husband will be talking and laughing about the funny things they said or did, and in those moments, they will come back to life for both of you.
Nobody tells you how you’ll miss the little things, like the times you went to visit them with your kids after school. And how your favorite memories will be those simple moments and days you spent together. You’ll remember throwing the football while the kids ran through the side yard, and it will suddenly become your favorite time being with them.
Nobody tells you it will be the small details that will mean the most to you. It could be a favorite song they loved, or a song that reminds you of them. And you’ll play it just to hear what it was that they loved so much about it. And it will make you smile, because you’ll know what they felt in their heart in that moment.
Nobody tells you how just when your grief starts to lighten, it will come back stronger, and in waves. How it’s three steps forward, two steps back, and it will be that way for a long time. A lot of the time, it will come out of nowhere and surprise you, and there’s nothing you can do but feel it and hold space for it. Hold space for them, and what their memory is trying to tell you.
Nobody tells you when a sibling passes, especially if it’s early in life, how you’ll wish things had happened differently for them. How it’ll make the grief more complicated. How all you can do is to honor their memory, and keep them alive through conversation, through photos, through writing about them and the memories and stories you know they would hope to hear repeated: the memories they’d wish to relive if they could, again and again.
Nobody tells you how all you can do is to wish them love and have faith that the person who knew you from the very beginning is still doing everything they loved in their life. And feel safe in the knowing they’re doing it someplace else now. Someplace wonderful. Someplace where they are now at peace.
by Hillary Adams 
by Valli Vida Gideons 
