Why We Need to Talk About Sibling Grief After Losing Someone to Substance Use Disorder
When someone dies from overdose, the grief spotlight usually lands on their parents, partners, or kids. People rush in with casseroles, flowers, and “How are you holding up?” But there’s one person who often gets left in the dust, clutching their grief quietly in the background: their sibling.
Let me be blunt—this is bullshit.
The Forgotten Ones
Siblings are supposed to be your forever people. They’re the ones who know all your family’s dirty secrets, who fought over the remote with you, who laughed until you both couldn’t breathe about some stupid inside joke. And when they die, especially from substance use, it feels like the world just ripped a part of their soul out and stomped on it.
But no one notices. They don’t see you. The parents get the sympathy. The kids get the support. And you’re just… there. Holding everyone else up. Being the “strong one” while you’re falling apart inside.
Grieving in Silence
Here’s the ugly truth about sibling grief: it’s fucking lonely.
You don’t just lose them—you lose your partner-in-crime, your witness to childhood, your co-survivor of the chaos (or whatever your family life was). You lose someone who was supposed to be there for all the milestones—holidays, weddings, watching each other’s kids grow up. That future? Gone. Just like that.
And if substance use was involved, it’s even more twisted. You’re not just mourning their death—you’re mourning the years substance use stole from you both. The memories you could’ve had. The sibling they used to be. And yeah, you’re pissed. At them. At yourself. At the world.
You’re also drowning in guilt. Could I have done more? Should I have called more, helped more, been more? But here’s the kicker—none of that would’ve mattered because substance use is a beast that doesn’t give a shit about your guilt.
Invisible Grief
No one talks about sibling grief because people don’t think it’s “as bad.” You didn’t lose a child. You didn’t lose a partner. You’re supposed to just move on. But let me tell you something: grief isn’t a competition, and this shit hurts just as much.
Siblings often get pushed aside at funerals. “How are the parents holding up?” people ask, while you’re sitting there barely keeping your shit together. They don’t see the raw ache of losing the one person who knew you.
And when you’re not being ignored, you’re being told to “be strong.” Fuck being strong. You’re allowed to crumble. You’re allowed to scream into the void, to cry so hard your body shakes, to feel every ounce of the pain because this loss is yours too.
Breaking the Silence
We don’t talk about sibling grief enough because people don’t want to deal with it. It’s uncomfortable. It’s messy. But you know what? Tough shit. We need to start talking about it because staying silent isn’t helping anyone.
If you know someone who lost a sibling to substance use , don’t leave them out. Ask them about their grief. Ask them about their sibling. Don’t gloss over it with bullshit platitudes like “They’re in a better place” or “At least they’re not suffering anymore.” Fuck that. They’re suffering because they’re gone.
Let them be angry. Let them cry. Let them laugh about stupid memories and rage about what substance use stole from their family. Just let them feel.
This Grief Is Real
Sibling grief is real, and it’s brutal. It’s messy and complicated and full of shit no one warns you about. But it’s valid. It’s heavy. And it deserves space in the conversation about loss.
So stop pretending siblings are fine. Stop ignoring their pain because it doesn’t look the way you think grief should. And for fuck’s sake, stop making them feel like they have to be strong for everyone else.
Siblings matter. Their grief matters. Their stories matter. Let’s start treating them like it.
