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Stories

Sibling loss

For brothers and sisters carrying a particular, often-overlooked grief.

• Leukemia

  AyeshaAugust 2026

  My sister Mariam died from leukemia when we were teenagers. She was 16 and I was 14. I'm now older than she ever got to be, which is a very strange thing to think about. For years I remembered her as my big sister. Then one day I realised that in my memories she would always be sixteen and I had become a grown woman. Sometimes I wonder what she would look like now. Whether she would have children or what work she would do. Whether we would still argue about borrowing each other's clothes. I have her CD's and some of her other things. I have lugged it all through four house moves and my husband obviously knows never to suggest getting rid of it. There isn't anything particularly special about her stuff. That's probably why it matters. It isn't a memorial object. It's just something that belonged to my sister.

  One of the thing I have of hers is a dictionary, very random but she drew in it and signed it, so it's something I open often for no particular reasonHow I honour them

• My sister

  MargaretAugust 2026

  My older sister Helen died after living with cancer for six years. For those six years, illness became part of the rhythm of our life. Appointments and the then the results. There were good scans and bad scans. And of course, the tedious waiting rooms. When she died I thought I would immediately remember the Helen from before cancer. Instead, for a while, all I could picture was Helen when she was sick. That upset me enormously. Then one afternoon my niece brought over an old box of photographs. There was Helen at twenty-three sitting on the bonnet of somebody's car wearing enormous sunglasses. Helen dancing at my wedding. Helen holding my son when he was a baby. And suddenly there she was again. My sister. Not my sick sister. Just Helen. I've put one of those photographs beside my bed. She's laughing in it. That's the face I want time to remember.

  I keep a photograph beside my bed of Helen laughing, it makes me smile.How I honour them

• A forgotten griever.

  TomJune 2026

  When my brother died, everyone asked me how my parents were doing. Which I get, it was their child but sometimes people forget that he was important to me too. It felt like I had to become the strong one, the one who organised the Rob’s Celebration of Life, the one who held it together there and after, for my parents and the family. Everybody came to me. Nobody asked how I was, because the loss of a child is so enormous that the loss of a brother seems to just not be as significant. It took me a long time to grieve Rob. Or really allow myself to grieve him. Without my parents seeing me. I felt like and still do feel like I have to be strong in front of them. But Rob and I shared a childhood, thick as thieves. It’s lonely without him, it’s not a better place. He should be here. To be honest, what helped was finding one other person who'd lost a sibling and could say "yes, exactly" to the things I couldn't explain. So, if you're the forgotten griever in your family, I see you. And I am sorry you have been overlooked. Your grief is just as important.

  I listen to my brother's playlist on Spotify.How I honour them

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