Grief and Honor: Life Lessons from My Brother's Death
- The Ronin that Writes
- Dec 18, 2025
- 8 min read
It's crazy to realize that its been three years since my brother's passing.
It felt like yesterday getting the call from my Niece (love you TK) and my Mom that Ed was in the hospital, unresponsive, and fighting for his life on a machine.
Three eternities ago and I was the one that had to take control of the situation and manage it as best as I did, making the hard calls that would effect the lives of all surviving family members and people that knew the man he was.
Namely his Daughter and my Mom.
I learned a lot in that night...
seven long nights before Christmas.
While other families were planning to come together for the holidays, mine would be reeling from Death...one of our own who, like so many others bearing the last name, went through their journey of struggles and self discovery riddled in vices and close calls with our maker.
I learned that night when I had to have him pulled off Life Support, that Death brings life to us, whether we want to admit it or not. That Grief and Honor would become my watchwords as I traverse the remaining 50% of my own life with my Children.
Lesson One: I'm built for Hardships despite Fear of Leading through it
From the moment my Mom called me crying, telling me that Ed was in a hospital bed in the Philippines, something inside of me...
Broke...
Shifted...
Morphed into something that I was afraid of...
Something I thought I didn't have or couldn't become.
Something I thought that I would only need to learn and leverage in the military...LEADERSHIP.
I took charge.
I shut everything else off.
Cut the chord of distractions for those 48 hours.
Everything else crying out why? Why abandon us?
Because Ed's life was in my hands from thousands of miles away, and he was bleeding out.
It was all up to me.
I couldn't bitch out.
Couldn't even think of excuses as to why I couldn't do it.
The inside of my chest clawing at my lungs in fear like a demon terrified by the coming of the divine.
There was no "I don't have what it takes."
I had zero other options but to take the ball and run down the field...because this man was my brother,
even though he was dying.
Even though he would never remember the hoops I jumped through because no one else could.
The IMs to doctors and nurses through his Facebook account while the phone somehow survived the ordeal with 10% battery life left.
Speaking to his Filipino friends to get updates while conducting investigations in my head as to who did this to him.
Calling to coordinate his medical benefits like I would at the job only to find out his VA Benefits weren't current.
Calling the Embassy to see if we could get him transported to a facility there so he could use his benefits to cover his expenses (which quickly turned out to be a no and incurring a cost I helped pay out of pocket for)
So many twists and turns and I was doing the heavy lifting until his Wife finally got on board...
But none more difficult than telling my Mother and his Wife that there were really no other options than to end his Life support or incur greater costs. They both gave me the nod to make the choice that was the lesser of two evils...
But still I felt like I murdered him with these words "I agree to terminate All life support and treatment
"Heavy is the Crown" they say, and the crown became mine
when a week before Christmas, he surrendered his last breath in silence and died.
No more suffering, no more pain.
No more race against the clock.
His physical form was discarded in pictures that made time stand still as they unloaded him from the stretcher like pieces of meat in a grocery store.
But that was far from goodbye or the end.
We had to coordinate his effects, cremate him and get him home...
The other long half of the battle.
Things wouldn't be situated until several months later when his remains were shipped back to my Niece, and several hundreds of dollars later out of pocket for our trouble working with locals in a different country that could have screwed and scammed us out of our loved one.
It was harder than two combat deployments to Iraq, or living out of my car in 2018.
I had to end his life to save him, with meticulous execution, planning, and coordination with multiple parties. Difficult as it was, I learned that I had it in me all along to take charge under pressure, even in fear, and make all the right calls while keeping everyone informed...a skill even to this day I fear at times because I feel like I don't know enough to lead effectively.
The Universe called BULLSHIT. It's always been in me, and my brother's fighting spirit is testament to that.
Lesson Two: Death Brings Life and Awareness
When my Brother was pronounced dead, there was an overwhelming sense of...
Calm...
Reserve...
Understanding of the Cycle of Life.
I vowed that day that I would HONOR his Legacy by LIVING my own.
This mantra resonates with me because when someone dies, it does something to us.
Sure there's tears, struggles, rage, and maybe gatherings.
But it brings things to light that we often miss.
When death strikes our families or someone we know,
or even we ourselves getting brushed by it,
we learn the true value of life.
There's a stoic saying of Memento Mori, which I translate to mean you live fully as if this moment in time is YOUR last time. Give it your all. Go All In. Don't give a fuck what stands in your way or who approves of who you are or what you're doing. You do what you need to do to Live Life Your Way.
Death serves as a check and balance to look ourselves in the eye and observe how we are living. We may notice we get angry the way they do behind the wheel. Or we eat recklessly like the sugar and salt intakes don't matter anything if the food doesn't taste good (I'm guilty of this and I'm changing it!). Even more impactful, when someone we know dies because they worked themselves tirelessly tired into the ground just to survive, taking on three jobs, side hustles, and taking the bounty to hunt the partridge in the pear tree so they can say they did it..they survived....
But did they really? Will you?
Society forces us to ignore the obvious.
To push forward because the warriors way is the way.
because its a dog eat dog world.
Survival of the Fittest.
If you sleep you don't eat.
And all these other bullshit sayings that seem to be trendy and make the corporate world go round while you pray they don't cut you off at the knees on the latter you climbed for 19 years, three months and 14 days.
Color me fucked up for saying it this way, but when someone around you dies, will you follow in their footsteps? Or will you evaluate your steps and change course.
Sure we will all perish one day, but we don't have to perish how THEY did.
Lesson Three: Grief Looks Differently for Everyone
I took a trip to New York City this weekend to spend time with my mom as the anniversary of his passing and her getting older weighed fresh in my mind.
She has not been herself since she lost him.
Noticeably down and out yet forcing a smile and a sense of divinity that she clings to trying to show that she's okay when she isn't.
Though financially things were tight, I decided on going and I'm grateful I did, because I was able to counteract my mom's grief...
even if just for 2.5 days.
I've learned that there is no real one size fits all for grief. Speed of healing doesn't really apply here. I remember always telling my Mom to let it go...that he's still here with us in spirit...to not let it bring her down...and yet, how does a Parent turn on a light switch and smile when her first born child passed away when it's supposed to be the other way around? Who am I to try and propel her healing or dictate how she needs to heal?
Sure I may speak from my perspective but it doesn't necessarily make it right for her or anyone else...but me.
I shed tears when I told my kids the uncle they never got to meet was in the hospital and wasn't doing too good...and that was it for me...or maybe not.
Something my mom said negatively about my brother made me snap. She referenced his storied downward spiral in life, which was seen as a detriment to how she raised us, and I threw a hand up, raised my voice and declared "Don't You DARE talk about him like that." This of course shook up my mother quickly because in that moment I was grieving with honor. I did not want her to tarnish my Brother's legacy with doing drugs and shit when he did a whole bunch more good. I laid it out on the line putting respect back on his name. For me, I realized in that moment that my grief was one of honor and defense. I may not physically scrap, but when it comes to defending with words and the facts, its Game Over.
I also grieve in reflection, remembering the nuggets of knowledge I gained from each person that passed. It doesn't mean that I am emotionless or a machine, it means I process it differently. Someone may take years of heavy crying or rage to let out their grief, and that is okay too. Everyone is indeed different, so long as its done in a way that doesn't lead to bodily harm towards ourselves or others or puts us in unnecessary risk.
Last Nod to my Brother
Ed, I know you see this from where you stand. I know you're there and I will not disgrace the family name. I am battling whatever irrational fears I have so that I can make my dreams come true. Our family has seen our share of unfortunate fractures, and death should not be the only time we come together in droves. I will play my part to make things right...to establish my own legacy. The Peacemaker and the Creator you know I can be.
I thank you for the times you looked out for me and tried to toughen me up for the world outside. In a way you put my ass through home school - the school of hard knocks. I didn't like it, but it was preparing me to do something about it. To be a rebel without the violence. Setting the foundation for me to become someone this world doesn't realize they need yet...the Ronin that Writes. Sharing thoughts and feelings whether people read it or not.
I thank you for showing me who a Black Man and a Black Father is supposed to be. I may not have the academic accolades you do post High School, but best believe I know my shit too. You'll see.
Until next time brother --
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