This is Twenty-Five

Even 25 years later, the Phil-shaped space in our family looms large. The loss of my 18-year-old brother still hangs in the air of my parents’ home, in the ellipses of our conversations, and on the fringe of my thoughts every June (his birthday) and November (his deathiversary).

While my brain no longer grapples on the daily with his loss, I still find myself gutted every November Tenth. How are there no new photos of Phil to frame? No new Phil music to put in rotation? No new shenanigans to share about him?

Despite the lack of new Phil activity, my grief still seems to evolve and change. As in, whenever a new life chapter unfolds—graduation, move, marriage, career change, parenthood—or when I experience another death, I newly encounter my old grief. I can’t help wishing Phil could’ve attended X or Y or Z celebration or supported me through the challenges, frustrations, and disappointments that have come with the past two-and-a-half decades.

If you’re on healthy, self-aware terms with yourself, you’ll likely encounter your grief every time you encounter a new life chapter—whether it’s for the better or the worse. And while I’d give anything to watch my brother evolve and change instead of my stupid grief…maybe it’s the next best thing? Maybe by acknowledging our grief, we’re paying homage to our late loved ones and keeping ourselves effing sane.