The Many Faces of Grief and Loss: 51 Years Later, Losing Dennis Still Hurts

“Blessed are those that mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

Last Thursday, I did what I have always done on every April 20^th, attending Mass at the church of my youth, Our Lady of Mount Carmel in Ridgewood, NJ in commemoration of my late brother Dennis who died unexpectedly 51 years ago.  At 68, my grief is different now than it was on that life changing day as a 17-year-old junior in high school and the years that followed that painful loss, emotions that I captured in real time during my 34-day Camino pilgrimage in September 2021.

I spent those early years of grief mired in deep sadness, constantly reliving the suddenness and shock of his loss; feelings of intense anger at God for taking him away at such a promising time in his life; resentful that an autopsy report could never determine his exact cause of death leading me to question everything, including what I thought was my abiding and sturdy faith; feelings of guilt over why Dennis had to die instead of me or a member of someone else’s family; and the immediate pressure I felt to take care of everyone in my family, something I was not prepared for and knowing instinctively that my life’s trajectory had been forever changed.

But time really does have a way of healing old wounds even painful losses like losing my brother’s keeper.  As I sat in my pew at church, I could still see in perfect detail every moment of that awful period, but I also marveled at the many graces God provides in times of tragedy, some of which we can only see and appreciate years later when that intense pain begins to subside.  I now see more clearly the many friends and priests that stopped by our house that night to express their condolences; the 2 day wake at Feeney’s Funeral Home where the line of people waiting to pay their respects for Dennis was so long, the line extended out to the parking lot; the funeral Mass concelebrated by Fr. Quinn and the wonderful Jesuit priests from St. Joe’s; and that ride home after the burial ceremony and how the limousine felt empty as one of the original 7 members of our family was no longer with us. 

From my pew, I could also see all the joy that Dennis had given me in his 19 years. All the sacraments we and other family members and friends received in this glorious church – the baptisms, our First Holy Communion and Confirmations; our sister Cathy’s wedding; all the Masses Dennis and I performed as Altar boys; our days playing CYO and Intramural basketball across the street at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Grammar School; and, all the times we walked home from Mass together bringing Mom and Dad fresh rolls and donuts from Fischl’s Bakery on Sunday mornings.  

Most of the pain today in my grief journey with Dennis are the things I thought we would do as we got older. He never had the chance to meet my wife Jean of 43 years, my three children and my three grandchildren, and my two sons in law. We never had a chance to travel and vacation together, take our families to a Mets game, share our career experiences with one another, or to help one another with different home improvement projects like we often did as brothers growing up.  I take comfort in knowing that my own journey of grief mirrors the experiences of so many of my fellow parishioners who share their grief journey with me in my work as a Bereavement and Grief Coach, one of the greatest blessings I have been given in this life. I have learned through this experience that  everyone’s journey of grief is unique, highly personal, and takes place on their own timeline, not someone else’s preconceived notion of where any one of us should be in this deeply personal journey.  I feel blessed to have finally arrived at a destination in my own grief journey that I wasn’t sure I would ever reach.  It’s a place where I’ve been able to integrate more of the love that I will always have for Dennis and for the more recent losses of my Mom and Dad than the pain I know I will always feel for losing them in this life.  And I know that by sharing my own very personal grief journey with others, we can help each other continue to move through that pain, fully cognizant that life will be different without our loved ones being here with us as they had been before, but where the meaning of our lives becomes clearer in a way that honors the loved ones we have lost.    

Finally, my faith during the grief journey has been a real game changer for me.  You see there’s been this bad dream I have had for 51 years where I am playing basketball on our backyard court and Dennis begins to walks up our driveway to come play with me which we did for countless hours growing up.  My dream has always ended the same where I always wake up at the very moment Dennis is about to speak to me and the realization that Dennis really is no longer here in this life with me. But today I have the faith that I will see Denny again when I cross my own finish line.  He will be waiting for me just like I have always been waiting for him these past 51 years.  He will always be the best big brother and friend I could ever hope to have, and I know that when I finish my race all my grief will disappear and we will once again be together, playing basketball in our new backyard court called heaven. Oh how beautiful that court will be!

Wishing my clients, fellow coaches, colleagues, and friends the abundant gift of God’s inner peace as you grieve your losses during this very challenging time, Dr. K