The Five Stages of Grief.

When did you realize that you started to grieve? Was it an uncomfortable feeling? Did your emotions run too high? Someone once asked me how I would know the grieving process has started. If you asked yourself that question, it has already begun. There was a three-month gap between my father's burial and my brother's demise. I started getting back into shape and began therapy. I tried drinking less and was slowly trying to cut back on tobacco and the drugs I was doing since I was a prime candidate for the gene to receive the drug addict’s trait. (Eminem lyric) But February 2, 2014, told 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 believe 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 it all. 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, I realize I had an issue with the same things he did.

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. Suppose the person you're grieving took their life. In that case, 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 being vulnerable with a 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 I had with people that I lost contact with due to my isolation and not showing up for them. I grieved TIME, some of that time wasted, some of that time spent wishing I had tried getting sober earlier. 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 different if it wasn't for events that progressed my addiction. Anything you love that you have 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 what life is like 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 the hobbies they loved, continue listening to the same ten Smashing Pumpkins songs he or she showed you in 2005, and remember that they are watching over you and are proud of you for continuing life.

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 strongest 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 guy. 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 I drowned myself with Kettle One in the hopes that this was just a bad dream. When I first saw his body, 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 actual 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 similar to my brother's, and my family noticed. We sold the business months later, and I quit 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 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 felt my meaning and purpose also died. My alocholism didn’t let me achieve much and the bottomline was 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. Do 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 familiar 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 terms. I was angry with my brother because he started taking pills 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 we had unresolved tension that was never sorted out. I was furious with myself because I didn't tell him I loved him enough, even though he would say that is gay dude. He never let me in which is why half the time I felt like I never really knew him the way I thought.

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 months of sobriety and finding hope, it won't work 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 more profound than that. After that day, I would be sober for a year and a half, during which I learned more about myself than in the past decade alone.

Stage 3: Bargaining

Bargainng 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, 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. Within bargaining, people also negotiate with God. I will start attending church if Timothy lets me know that he is happy. God, I will never smoke dope again if you just bring back my girl! You start making promises to God, hoping you will get an answer. I wish I started going to church again, I wish I embraced GOD instead of being angry with him. Once I moved to Utah, AA and the Steps helped me gain a connection with him again. 

  When you work the Twelve Steps in AA, you are bound to have a spiritual experience at some point. I have redone the steps several times and have had several spiritual experiences. But little did I know I had my first "real"spiritual experience the day my brother passed. I was preparing for a Super Bowl party in my mom's bathroom. She had a TV beside the bathtub, so I used it often. While taking a bath, I noticed the lights flickering and 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 was that he was in a better place. Also, there is a fear of 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. I knew something was wrong once my mother called me to come home at halftime. If you don't believe in God and heaven, that's fine. I'm not trying to convince you of anything; we have no idea until our time is up. But, there was something spiritual about that, or maybe I am the most useless Spider-Man, and my Spidey Senses only worked that 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 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 people will stop asking how are you doing. You will be in a crowded room wondering why nobody's talking about them but that's  apart of life. People will inevitably move on with their lives and forget about you and the people you think about daily. My depression got serve and I started losing interest in things I loved; I probably didn't pick up the guitar for about a year or two. I drank alcohol and didn't try to live a healthy lifestyle.

Stage 5: Acceptance

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 planning to move forward and learn to live with them "within you".  It took me ten years to get to this stage, with my alcoholism and addiction postponing my grief for the majority of that time. For me, I just needed to get sober to be able to heal at all. September 23, 2022 was the start date. I went back to rehab which humbled me and decided to listen to those before me instead of trying to go at it on my own. I got a sober coach, worked the steps, did intensive therapy along with weekly therapy. My sober support team helped me get to a place that I thought was impossible. During those eighteen months I realized I learned much more about myself then the first twenty three of my life. I learned to suffer, and within my suffering, now, when someone comes to me about their curiosity around grief and loss I know how to approach it. My addiction turned me into a selfish person, and my sobriety and healing made me selfless again. I have found meaning and purpose, and 

A year after accepting my 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 needed someone to push me forward instead of staying idle my whole 

I found myself five miles into the Wasatch Front, overlooking Desolation Lake. It was me alone with GOD and my brother. I sat there and cried as I no longer had ill will toward him. I prayed seriously for the first time in seven years and forgave him. I realized at that moment that getting sober was the hardest thing I have ever done and accepting his death was the easiest, giving the coping skills. I found God that day in his truest form and realized that I am going to be okay.

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