After The Last Embrace

“When My Brother/Sister Left, a Part of My Story Broke”

He wasn’t just my brother. He was my life companion. My witness. My mirror. My accomplice.

The day he left, it wasn’t just a person who died. An invisible line that had always bound us broke. A piece of my story that only he knew shattered. A way of being in the world lost its meaning without him.

People talk about grief for parents, for children, for partners — but grief for a sibling is different. It’s quiet. It’s deep. It’s shared, but lonely. Because no one else lived what you lived with him. No one else understands what it meant. No one else knows what was lost.

I miss him in the details — in the inside jokes, in the gestures only he understood, in the fights that ended in laughter, in the conversations that needed no translation. I miss the way he looked at me as if he knew everything. I miss his presence — the kind that never asked permission. I miss his way of simply being.

And though I try to move on, there are days when the pain undoes me. Because he was part of my identity. Part of my childhood. Part of my memory. And now that he’s gone, everything feels more fragile. More distant. More incomplete.

The death of a sibling is a grief rarely named — but felt in every corner, in every memory, in every silence. It’s a grief carried in the chest, dragged through the days, transformed into longing.

I write this for you — for all who have lost a brother or sister, for all who still find them in dreams, for all who carry them in their skin, their voice, their soul. Because your pain matters. Because your story deserves to be told. Because your love doesn’t fade with death.

🌿 Another Perspective: How to See the Loss of a Sibling

Your brother or sister didn’t leave completely. They live in you — in your gestures, in your words, in your memories. They’re in the stories you shared, the songs you sang the phrases only you two understood.

Your grief is valid — even if it’s unacknowledged, unnamed, or misunderstood. Your pain has a place. Your love has memory. Your story has roots.

To remember them is to honor them. Speak of them. Write to them. Tell them what you’ve lived. Make them part of your present. Because as long as you remember them, they’re still with you.

💌 From Me to You

To you — who have lost a brother or sister, who shared life, childhood, secrets — and now share silence.

I want you to know that I see you. That I hear you. That I’m walking beside you.

You’re not alone — even if the world doesn’t understand, even if no one asks, even if you yourself don’t know how to explain what you feel.

You’re not broken. You’re grieving. You’re in transit. You’re rebuilding.

Your sibling lives on in you — in your way of loving, in your way of enduring, in your way of remembering.

And if today the pain overwhelms you, if the air feels heavy, if the world feels colder — that’s okay. You don’t have to heal quickly. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to prove anything.

You just have to exist. To breathe. To allow yourself to feel.

Because even in absence, love remains. Because even in silence, the bond endures. Because even in grief, you are still you.

I’m holding you from here,

with all my respect,

— Luz 🤍