When Your Grief Doesn’t Count: Finding Belonging After Sibling Loss
Why I’m Giving Away Copies of The Loss of a Lifetime—and How Collective Stories Help Us Heal When the World Overlooks Our Pain
In December 1997, I attended a Compassionate Friends meeting with my parents.
For weeks, my mom filled our regular phone calls with statements about how much Compassionate Friends was helping her survive the unimaginable. In the eight agonizing months since my brother’s suicide, it had become her lifeline. Days before my December visit, she asked if I’d join her and my father for a meeting while I was in town.
At the time, I feared my mom might die of grief. Plus, at twenty-two, I still felt like a kid who couldn’t say no to her parents. So, even though I was leery of this group, I thought it was my duty to accompany her.
On the day of the meeting, we sat near the door. As we waited for other grievers to file in, I assessed the tissue-box-to-chair ratio. At 2:1, I knew this would be intense.
Adults in their forties and fifties filled the empty seats. At seven o’clock, the leader read a preamble, followed by round-robin introductions where members shared their names and a little about who they’d lost.
It quickly became clear that I was the lone sibling in the room.
Stories followed—most so heartbreaking that if we’d been glass figurines, the pitch of pain expressed in that circle would’ve shattered us.
At the end of each tearful story, nearby members patted the storyteller’s hands and said things like, “They just don’t know,” “No one gets how unbearable this is,” and “It’s the kind of loss—”
I will never disparage the loss of a child—something I can never know as a childless woman. But as I sat there, I never felt more alone, or more like my grief didn’t count.
That loneliness, combined with all the messages I’d heard since Joe’s death—be strong for your parents, it could kill your mother, it’s up to you now, it’s just your brother, it’s not like you lost your kid—led me to bury my grief so deeply that it nearly destroyed me—something I wrote about for HuffPost.
I started writing a memoir about my experience in the hopes of helping other siblings feel less alone. Singular stories have the power to do that when told well. But sometimes, the strength of the collective is far greater than what any individual can offer. The collective can explore topics you’ve never experienced or share insights unavailable to you because they’re not tied to your loss. The collective reveals not just the power of voice, but the power that arises when individual stories speak in unison about how common something is or how we are not alone.
I have the privilege of calling some of the authors in The Loss of a Lifetime anthology my friends. Every story in it validates my experiences while also shedding new light on aspects of grief I’ve yet to ponder. They remind me of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. Most importantly, they offer new ways for my brother and me to connect.
The Kindle version of The Loss of a Lifetime: Grieving Siblings Share Stories of Love, Loss, and Hope is already available for preorder. The paperback version launches on June 17, 2025.
In celebration of our launch, I’m offering you the opportunity to experience the sense of connection I’ve benefited from by giving away six copies of The Loss of a Lifetime: Grieving Siblings Share Stories of Love, Loss, and Hope during June.
To enter the giveaway, please share one of the following in the comments:
The name of a sibling you lost
The name of someone who has lost a sibling
A message you’d like to share with other sibling loss survivors.
Because everyone will either lose a sibling one day or know someone who does, you do not need to be a sibling loss survivor to participate. Simply share your love with all of us.
On Friday, June 6, 2025, I will draw the names of the first two winners.
Next week, I’ll offer a second drawing, so there will be multiple opportunities to win.
Knowing I’m bringing you into our collective fills my heart with so much joy. It also reminds me why I’ve been writing for all these years and why I’ll always—always—write on.
Warmly,
Lisa
Your Turn: How has sibling loss impacted you? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Share your answers in the comments along with the information above to participate in my giveaway.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post; your support means so much to me. If this post resonated with you, here are four simple ways to support this Substack:
Subscribe to this Substack if you’re not already a follower
Like this post by clicking the heart
Restack this post (bonus points if you include a note)
Forward this email to a friend or share the link on social media
Upcoming Events
Recording available through June 6th!
Upcoming Reading
Join me and other Loss of a Lifetime authors for a celebratory reading from this book on Wednesday, June 18, 2025 at 7:30 PM ET. Registration information will be shared next week! Email me now if you’re interested and I’ll send the info directly to your inbox.
The Latest Episode of Writing Your Resilience:
Get ready for a mind-blowing conversation with Human Design coach Maha Mamish. In this episode, you’ll learn what Human Design is, why I’m so passionate about it, and how it can transform the way you approach your life and creative process. You’ll also hear how it’s already making a huge impact on my coaching clients. So, grab a pen, open your heart, and get ready to explore your unique operating system in a way that could change everything.
Red-Hot Writers
Are you a subscriber with a late May or June publication? Send me a message with the title and link so I can share your writing with our community. The deadline for this month's Red-Hot Writer List is 6/20/2025.
While I will link to pieces that promote a thoughtful dialogue between humans, I will not publish anything that promotes hate or demeans or denigrates marginalized communities
Sex in your post is okay, but I don't promote erotica
Posts to your blog or personal Substack and marketing-focused posts do not qualify
Milestone Makers
Are you a subscriber who’s reached a late May or June milestone? Reply to this email so we can celebrate your success. Milestones could be birthdays, reaching a specific goal, or hitting a benchmark on a long-term project. The deadline for reporting your milestone is 6/20/2025.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. You can support this newsletter and yourself with my occasional subscriber support sessions and quarterly Ask Me Anything sessions by becoming a paid subscriber. The next Ask Me Anything session is scheduled for Wednesday, June 18, 2025.
I lost my brother John to suicide when I was 14, and my sister Barbara to suicide when I was 28. I'm turning 64 in a couple of weeks, and both losses still affect me to this day.
At that time, and especially in my family, suicide was a taboo topic. Nobody knew how to talk about it. I was overwhelmed with guilt and shame on top of all the grief.
Writing and sharing my story has helped me find my way through all of it. I'm grateful for communities like this where we can speak up about our experiences. Nobody should have to suffer alone.
I had a similar experience when I attended a bereavement group after I lost my best friend to cancer. Everyone else in the group had lost a spouse, partner, or a family member. The group facilitators, though kind, didn’t quite know how to respond to me. I felt more like an educator than a group participant.
My best friend’s parents put a lot of pressure on me to act like a surviving sibling to their son. I hadn’t realized how much my best friend had been taking care of her brother, or how much she’d been acting like the emotional glue in her family, holding everyone together. Her family’s grief was so overwhelming, there was no room for mine. I had to distance myself so as not to get consumed by their needs.
When my father died, I made sure that his best friend was included and supported along with the rest of the family. I was determined to that no one’s grief would be marginalized on my watch.
Ironically, this was exactly what my best friend would have done if she’d been here.