The Five Stages of Grief

When did you realize that your grief got too heavy? Did you slow it down or tune it out?  There was a three-month gap between my father's burial and my brother's demise. I started working out and attempted therapy again. I tried drinking less and was slowly trying to cut back on tobacco and other narcotics since I was a prime candidate for the gene to receive the drug addict trait. (Eminem lyric) But February 2, 2014, showed me otherwise. I continued binge drinking for years; that pack-a-day habit turned into two, and I had to break down and build myself back up multiple times before healing was even a thought. Four or Five days after our brother passed away, my sister drove me to pick up his Ford from the tow lot. You'd think there would be a special discount for picking up a deceased person's car, but I think them receiving a five-star Yelp review had better odds. As I drove back east on Oakland Park Boulevard, I checked the center console and found half a pint of Smirnoff Vodka. Hungover and traumatized by driving his SUV, I stopped at the red light on Oakland and Andrews and drank the rest of the pint. From that moment forward, I got a rush from drinking at inappropriate times and in inappropriate places. (A great example is drinking from a flask in a Church bathroom stall.) We had a celebration of life for JJ in Fort Lauderdale, followed by a Funeral in Chicago. It all took place over two weeks, and I was drunk the entire time. I felt relieved after we buried him, but then I grieved that window of time when it was necessary to drink that much without questioning if I was an alcoholic or not. I grieved my brother, but then again, I worried about my future since after his death, my thoughts consumed me that I had a problem with substances, but for years, I was in denial.

For the Perfectionists:

You don’t get a medal or certificate after healing from a loss, but if you want a hug, I’ll gladly give it to you. The five stages of grief are here to help you identify and navigate your emotions after losing someone. Some of these stages might not apply initially, or they could emerge later in your life. Grief has no expiration date, and denying the loss for years is okay if needed. If you feel like the stages are not working and you need immediate help, I highly recommend joining a grief support group, seeking a therapist, or talking with a friend or peer who has experienced the same thing. TALKING is key. If the person you're grieving took their life, the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is a fantastic organization with plenty of resources, volunteer opportunities, and events to remember your loved one and help you connect with the community. For me, sobriety was the key to unlocking my emotions and feelings, and moving to Utah was the door I needed to go through to reinvent my life and overcome self-hate, which ultimately led to self-love. The beautiful thing I discovered about grief was getting vulnerable with a complete stranger. It took time for me to do so, and it's not for everyone, but I was thrown into it through rehab and AA meetings, and it just stuck. If you are a normal human who can drink half a glass of wine at Rainforest Cafe and leave it there, I suggest a grief support group. There will likely be another half-glass drinker there, and y’all can drink responsibly together and express your grief, you perfectly normal human beings!

As I continued my road to recovery and healing, I found myself grieving not just the loss of life but other things as well. I grieved the old me, the arrogant, self-absorbed drunk who didn’t think about this shit. Who was content with not making it to thirty, just like his brother. I grieved relationships/friendships with people I lost contact with due to my isolation and not showing up for them. I grieve time, a Shamus in high school who didn't worry about much, let things slide and wasn't bothered by anything. I grieve recent memories with people, thinking maybe if I said this instead of that to her, things would be different. I grieved old jobs, my confidence in my early 20s, and the thought my life would have been totally different if it wasn’t for events that progressed my addiction. Anything you love that you lost, you can grieve.

These are my thoughts on the five stages of grief…

Stage 1: Denial

The second you hear about a passing, your first thought is to deny it, to run away from it. I think it's in our nature to deny the loss of someone, especially if it was sudden and someone very close to you. It is a very uncomfortable feeling to open up and talk about death, suicide, and how that person made you feel on this earth and life without them. It's okay to stay in the denial stage, but eventually, you will need to accept that death to move forward. Some people would say, “Get over it.” I'm here to tell you not to; if they meant that fucking much to you, keep them in your heart and never forget them but learn to live your life in the process. Adopt hobbies they loved, continue listening to the same ten Smashing Pumpkins songs that they showed you in 2005, and know they are watching over you and proud of you for living.

The denial I had about my father was not his death but the last six months of his life. He was rushed to ICU a few times, and I thought this was it, yet the fucker would bounce back and continue to get better, just to not. At that time, he was the most demanding person I knew, so to see him fearful made me question things. After his first stroke, he was never the same in my eyes. His personality changed, and the way he talked and his overall demeanor made me feel like we were renting out one of the bedrooms to some old man. I lost my father before I actually lost him. So, I guess that's the denial? Your father is still here but not the same person you knew in March. For my brother's death, I denied it, I didn’t want to think, and drowned myself with Kettle One in the hopes that this was just a bad dream. When I saw his body the first time, I felt like I was on a movie set; it didn’t look real. That person you were supposed to grow old with is lying in a box and will forever be 29. The real reality came when we got on the plane heading to Chicago for his funeral and saw the baggage handlers toss him on the belt loader like a piece of luggage. It was that moment right there. It was our last flight together, but I had an open seat next to me, and he was in the Cargo Hold.

I was also in denial of myself and the path I was heading down; it was very similar to my brother's, and my family noticed. We sold the business months later, I quite the Front Desk and started working there as a House Man. The job was simple: strip the sheets off the beds of the checked-out rooms, bring fresh towels and linens to the housekeepers, and let the guests know they can't smoke crack outside their rooms. I started the habit of drinking whatever alcohol was left in the rooms. It was pretty sad, but then again, I was a sad boy. Then I started bringing vodka with me to work, which led to waking up, throwing up, and drinking till I felt sane. It was like the movie Edge of Tomorrow but with a lesser budget, no action, and just a depressed, drunk 25-year-old trying to figure out how to work a trash compactor. That started the task of hiding pints in my car, room, and in any drawer that I didn’t think my mom would open that day. It continued for years, along with getting fired from multiple jobs, quitting jobs, and tarnishing my reputation as a drunk. After JJ died and the business was sold, I had no meaning, no purpose, but the reality was I didn’t try. I didn’t try to heal; I didn’t try to better myself; it was just one bar stool after the next, then sometimes a surprise visit to the Emergency Room. My tomfoolery came to a screeching halt in 2019 when my body rejected everything I tried to put in my stomach. I went into psychosis a few days later and ended up at the ER, where the doctor gave me an Ativan and an AA pamphlet and said rehab might be in my future. I had a few failed interventions before, that I stormed out of because I wasn't ready to face my reality. But I thought it was finally time to give it a shot. I entered treatment a few days later, and every stage of grief lingered above me. I was once again alone in a room and felt defeated. I thought, now I have to overcome this. I have to try to get help from the only thing that has helped me cope with this shit? Well, yeah, my drinking is the reason I never accepted my brother’s death and was never willing to move on with my life. So, of course, I needed to stop.

I think this would be the perfect time to tell the world we need to teach kids coping skills on things such as grief & loss in schools because I only learned to drink mine away..

Stage 2: Anger

Another common feeling after losing someone is anger, especially when it comes to suicide. At the time of my brother's self-destruction, I was naive and thought it was a selfish act mainly because he was the most self-centered person I knew at the time, and I was like, of course, he would go out on his own terms. I was angry with my brother because he started retaking pills again to cope with Dad, and I never saw him worse off than in the last few months of his life. I was angry because of what he did to our family, to our business, and most importantly, for leaving me on this rock alone. I was angry because there was unresolved tension between us that was never sorted out. I was angry because I didn’t tell him I loved him enough, even though he would say that’s gay dude because he didnt let me in.  I did gain many brothers and sisters from his loss, and I think that helped me continue my life for a while, but out of all the anger, deep down, there was love that I had not yet been discovered.

September 2022, I attempted to take my own life by snorting and swallowing enough illegal prescriptions that I thought would have killed five Dwayne “The Rock” Johnsons, but somehow, I woke up the following morning. I sat there for a while, feeling ashamed and defeated that I had just taken every pill I had left, and it wasn’t enough to end my miserable life. Even after having months of sobriety and finding hope, if you are not happy, it won't work. During that day, I did find clarity and felt every emotion and feeling my brother had. I realized people don’t kill themselves out of selfishness. It's way deeper than that. After that day, I would be sober for a year and half, during which I learned more about myself than in the past decade alone.

Stage 3: Bargaining

This is the “What If?" stage. What if I told my brother I loved him more? Would he still be here? What if I loaned him that money? It’s everyone’s Next Day Response. You are in shock and denial when you find out. Then, the next day, it's what if I had lunch with him last week? Would he still be here? If it weren't for working the steps in AA and adopting new morals, I would still be bargaining with what could have been. (You can't repeat the past - Nick Caraway) You learn very quickly that living in the past does nothing for you but builds resentment. Am I still worried about that time I accidentally touched my mom's friend's boob? (I must be if I’m writing it here.) No, not anymore; actually, that was the nicest boob I have ever touched, it was nice and firm, and she probably forgot about it untill she reads this. The bottom line is anything I have ever done or said to someone to offend them, I can't do anything about it. I just have to continue living my life in the hopes that one day, they will see the person I am now.

Within bargaining, people also negotiate with God. I will start going to church if Timmothy gives me a sign that he is happy. God, I will never smoke dope again if you just bring back my girl! If you work on the steps in AA, you are bound to have a spiritual experience at some point. I have redone the steps about six times and have had six spiritual experiences, some more powerful than others. Little did I know I had my first “real” spiritual experience the day my brother passed. I was getting ready for a Super Bowl party in my mom’s bathroom. She had a TV next to the bathtub, so I used it often. While taking a bath, I noticed the lights flickering, and I felt a weird breeze blow through me. It was like an unexplained wave coming at me. At that moment, I knew something was wrong, but I felt a sense of peace, and maybe that peace is that he is in a better place. Also, the feeling of fear for the unknown and what is to come. I knew JJ died, but I didn’t know how. His phone continued to go straight to voicemail, and I gave up after 25 times. Once my mother called me to come home at halftime, I knew something was wrong. Now, if you don’t believe in God and heaven, that's fine. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, and we truly have no idea until our time is up. But, there was definitely something spiritual about that, or maybe I am the most useless Spider-Man, and my spidey senses only worked once.

Stage 4: Depression

After both the passing of JJ and my dad, we would have about twenty or more people come over every day and every night. It was lovely getting free food and booze and a little company, but it got exhausting very fast, mainly because a lot of them were my mom's friends, and I don’t really care that Courtney played like shit on the tennis court Tuesday. I mean, I have nothing against my mom's friends, some of them are like bonus mothers to me, but I just wanted to be left the FUCK alone. It's okay to be there for people after they lose someone, but there is a limit to what you can do. When you are trying to strangle me with sympathy, I can feel it, and I just don’t need it. Maybe a hug and a quick chat, but don’t hang out with me just because you pity me. I used to be just Shamus, a happy, fun, loving man, but then people started to refer to me as that guy who lost his dad and brother, and I don’t want my identity to be defined by tragedy.

There will come a time when the phone stops ringing, and the texts stop chiming. You will be in a crowded room wondering why nobody’s asking you about them, and that's life. Peopl will inevitably go on with their lives and forget about you; it is not a bad, it just happens. You will start to grieve that time that you wish you had forgotten because you get an endorphin rush from human contact. I started losing interest in things I loved; I probably didn’t pick up the guitar for about a year afterward and stopped taking care of myself. Guilt came and went, and as the days grew darker, they were just wasted with broken promises. I stopped being the man of my word and disappointed many people who were trying to help me.

Stage 5: Acceptance

A year after accepting brother's death, somebody told me the truth as to why he took his life. I was slightly startled and felt the grieving process starting again, but then I thought of the positives. At least I got the answer to the questions I asked myself for years. Like the Bargaining stage, it doesn’t matter how many “what ifs” I throw at the wall. Nothing good will come to it. I know that my grief was always the love I had for him, even when I thought it was hatred. I always struggled with the word LOVE. I thought, why does she love me? I don’t deserve her, and I never will, but getting sober, having my faith and accepting death have helped me overcome that. Love has always been there, and I just needed someone to push me forward instead of staying idle my whole life. One afternoon, I decided to go hike. I went up Big Cottonwood Canyon and hiked the Mill D North Fork Trail to Dog Lake. It was pretty overcast and a weekday, so I was the only one on the trail. I realized I wasn’t tired when I got to my destination and continued on the path to Desolation Lake. Hiking has truly saved my life; it has taught me to do things independently, taught me to grieve and that the ones I have lost are with every mile. I realized how big the world was in the tiny world I was living in. I found God that day in his truest form; I sat at that lake for forty-five minutes and contemplated my faith, overcoming grief and being content with my life and future. 

Acceptance is the final stage of the grieving process; it's when you come to terms with that loss and start moving forward. At this point, you no longer fight against the reality of the loss and focus on the positive thoughts you had with them. You start making plans to move forward and learn to live your life with them within you instead of just losing control over their death. I learned many lessons from my father and brother; some I value, and some I let go of, but I have learned more about life after their deaths than when they were here.  I learned the true meaning of caring for people and authentically being happy with them without expecting anything in return. I learned to suffer, and within my suffering, now, when someone comes to me about grief and loss, I'll know what to say to them.  My alcoholism and addiction turned me into a selfish person and my sobriety and healing made me selfless again, which definitely helps with relationships in the future. I found God again, which I should have done from the start, but it is a lesson learned and something I will tell future grievers to do. Most importantly, I have found meaning and purpose, and I think anyone else who has found purpose the way I did will not find themselves alone in a car with a bottle and a gun.

I am thousands of miles away from the dimly lit Dive Bar I used to call home, and now I’m free....