The Rude Awakening

I wasn’t ready to be shaken to my core. I wasn’t ready to be kicked in the knees, to fall to the ground, to be humbled. I just wasn't ready. 

On February 9, 2019, I was celebrating my dad’s 70th birthday with my husband, aunt, and cousins. My brother was invited but was unable to make it to the dinner due to his work schedule. We had many laughs, delicious food, and a lot of stories to tell. As the night concluded, I received a message from my brother’s girlfriend that my brother was in the hospital. She explained to me that the hospital didn't want to give any information. I found this to be out of the ordinary due to my brother always popping his shoulder out. I called the hospital and they didn’t want to give me any information. 

Upon arrival, I spoke to the doctor, and she said, “Your brother is dead. We tried our best to revive him.” I cried, asking her, “How?” She said, “We found food lodged in his throat.” Death by choking? Could he have predicted his own death? I had so many questions. I couldn't believe my ears. I didn’t believe her. But I had to confirm the body. Oh, it was very, very real. Sean looked peaceful. 

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That night, I barely slept. I kept jumping up out of my sleep, hysterical. Why? Questioning who God is? Why would you do this to someone so young? What is the meaning behind all of this? February 14, 2019, the day dedicated to love, was the day we had my Sean’s viewing. As his sibling, I had to compartmentalize my emotions and be there for my mother and father, who lost their youngest child of twenty-nine years old to choking. 

A few months into my unspoken grief, I tried to act like everything was normal. From fake smiles to outings to keep me occupied from my tears. Some people asked me how I was doing. That was always a gut punch because I knew I wasn’t good. Some people moved on with their lives like nothing happened. I was jealous of them. How dare they move on and I am stuck between my old life being happy-go-lucky to starting a new journey in my life without my baby brother in my life.

I felt stuck. I felt unseen in my grief. I felt people judged me for smiling again and going out. Grief was the trickiest emotion I've ever felt while trying to balance joy. 

I would only share with a handful of people how I was really feeling. Some were supportive and some, well, were annoyed that I didn’t get over it fast enough for them. My grief was making them uncomfortable. When I mentioned Sean’s name, I would receive eye rolls, so I never brought him up again. I retreated back into my shell. I started asking more questions. I was on a quest to find out “Why”. I wanted to know the deeper meaning of death, and it piqued my interest to know more about life. I received opinions from people which I felt weren't enough. I felt it was their fear of grieving a potential loss projecting into my curiosity. From a comment saying, “death is inevitable,” seven months into grieving Sean. 

I tried everything to outrun grief, but I still wanted answers. But, boy, grief patiently waited for me.

I went to see a medium to ask about my brother and also confirm if he was ok in the other realm. I was accused of practicing “witchcraft” and “black magic.” I was asked if I was wearing colored beads around my neck. Although I was highly insulted, I was on a mission to find the answers that made sense to me. I kept following my intuition to dig deeper. I didn’t want to follow people’s self-projection of fear and brainwashed programming belief systems. I kept asking questions until I felt fulfilled. I wasn’t fulfilled. It was like a black hole, endless questions with no “real answers.” My actions caused endings to a few friendships because I was on a different journey, a quest per se. 

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I decided to start trauma therapy. This was the true beginning of my “rude” awakening. It felt intrusive but on time, almost in alignment. I was able to work through things that I thought I had healed from many years ago. The death of Sean, my baby brother, was a life lesson for me to be shaken at my core and really concentrate on what matters in life. My tolerance for unnecessary situations was spiraling to zero. I cried. I journaled. I voicenoted. I focused on breathwork to calm my nervous system. I read all the self-help books, the trauma books, the grief books. I did reiki and an inner child cleanse. I decided to join a church but, in return, left immediately. I was realizing that I was doing everything else but looking inward. I was doing everything else but grieving. Realizing that doing all this work externally and not the internal work. For one, I was still stuck in fight-or-flight, and my nervous system was impacted by this very trauma. 

Surrender was the only word that kept coming up in my soul. Just surrender. But surrender to what, to who, I kept asking myself. I was able to quiet my mind and return to myself. I was able to hear my intuition clearly. Grief was defined differently to me. The awareness of death and how beautiful it can be, instead of the negative aspects of death. Death was an excruciating pain that I no longer wanted to feel. There is peace and joy alongside the grief that I was embarking on. Sometimes, there were waves of crying spells that occurred when I remembered my brother, Sean, with a smell, or song, even him leaving signs around that he was doing alright. I paid attention to the numbers on the clock. 

Any sign to let me know he will always be by my side.

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Jessica Connelly is the co-host of The Grieving Sisters, a deeply honest podcast from childhood friends, who both lost siblings suddenly. Through raw stories and expert insight, they explore grief in all its forms—from spiritual signs and cultural perspectives to legal matters and identity struggles. It’s a space of compassion, connection, and healing for anyone facing the heartbreak of sibling loss.