I have been ambivalent about writing something so private in any kind of public way. My brother Sam’s death on June 13th and the depth of my grief are as raw, wrenching and private as anything I could write about. And yet my brother loved my writing and my willingness to express myself in these ways, and to not include losing Sam amongst the things that move me to the page seems also not quite right.
And I have not been able to write anything since he died, other than his obituary and his eulogy for his funerals on June 14th 2012 and June 18th. Yes, there were two.. one on the east coast, one on the west. And even two funerals and one burial were not nearly enough for me to express my love, my heartbreak, or to honor him in all of the ways I wished I could. During those events, there was so much love and so much connection that even amidst the pain, life was very much in attendance. Two services, standing room only.. the party afterwards with an open-mic tribute L.A. style.. We were awash in love, grief, and the shock of how fast it all went down.
And the kids..As Sam lay dying in the hospital my children and my niece and nephew never flinched, never wanted to be anywhere but by his side.. soothing him, ministering to him, praying over him. I was possibly never more proud of my sons, Luke and Nicky.. only 19 and 17, as they also stood and spoke of their love for their Uncle at the California funeral. Both my kids are musicians, and Luke wrote a song that he spoke. Nicky’s words about Sam as a sometimes unlikely role model with his comic’s sense of humor and outspokenness, being actually the best role model because of how loving he was and how devoted to his nephews and niece he was. My niece Amanda and nephew Austin also eulogized Sam and the four of them.. 3 teens and one 20 year old were so poised, so eloquent, so pure in their love for an Uncle that had shaped their lives so powerfully. Sam told me shortly before he died that one of the things he was most proud of were the relationships he had with the four of them.
Sam was born 10 years younger than I was and in certain ways he felt like my first child. I was at an age where I was able and passionate about caring for a new baby.. especially because we had just moved in the middle of that school year and I was adrift as the new kid.
My mother used to jokingly say that it was my “fault” that Sam grew up to be a comic (and a screenwriter eventually) because as the older sister I laughed at everything he did and used him often for my own amusement.
Over the years the men in my life knew very well that Sam had a certain priority for me.. I dropped everything to take his calls, and there was only one person ever who could make me laugh like that. Ever. When Sam phoned me at 5 in the morning back in February, I was sure he was calling to give me bad news about our 77 year old mother (who is healthy and amazing). I was panicked.. and he said “No Lisa, it’s about me. “. I was so numb when he told me that he’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer that it wasn’t until I went downstairs that I began to choke and sob. One of the many things that went through my mind that day was “Who will ever make me laugh like that again?”
My life between February and June 13th became all about “saving” Sam. About waiting for emails back from him, craving every minute of phone time I could get with him, I literally could not get enough of him.. but to be honest that was how I had always felt. When he moved permanently to Los Angeles many years ago it was a huge loss for me. I wanted him nearby.. wanted him for myself, for my kids, wanted him in my life in a bigger way. It was never enough. We dreamed of a time when I would possibly move west and we would have that again. For four months I began and ended every day thinking of my brother. Passing on every bit of inspiration, spiritual teachings, sisterly love.. whatever..I was desperate.
Sam was only 44 when he was diagnosed. And had a brand new baby Leo, 8 weeks old. And another beautiful son Max, only 2. And a gorgeous wife Ilona only 35.. married less than 4 years. Sam loved his little family.. it was everything he had ever wanted.. ever.. It was perfect. They were beautiful. They had this very glamorous very Old Hollywood wedding 4 years ago.. and the photos are in black and white. So beautiful. And one of Sam’s best friends said to me, “When those boys see those photos of their Dad as they grow up, they’re going to think he was like a movie star”. It’s true.
My sister in law and I during my visits out to California used to talk late into the night when the babies and Sam were sleeping. We mused on how we felt like we were now living in a different “dimension”. Everything was clear.. the little things, the petty things.. all went away. The lessons of life and living heart-open became crystal clear and essential. We said over and over again what a beautiful dimension it was.. in spite of the horror of what was happening. What was happening was nothing good. The cancer in the pancreas took over 90% of Sam’s liver in less than 5 weeks… chemo and all. It was ugly, brutal.. and it was when I understood for sure and without rancor that life wasn’t fair and it was never about fair.
Something else happened that was shocking during this time, and I have to mention it because it’s such an integral part of Sam’s life story and now death. Sam’s best friend, lifelong forever friend, since they were 3, was Mark Lane who lived on our street and was like another little brother to me. He grew up to be a big movie-star-handsome multimillionaire with a great wife and 4 little boys.
He and Sam were the quintessential Mutt and Jeff and they adored each other. Mark flew out right after Sam’s diagnosis during his surgery.. wrote checks for extra childcare.. anything for Sam. And then left to go back to New York. A couple of weeks later while taking his family on vacation to the Turks, while snorkeling with his youngest.. Mark was hit and killed by a motorboat that was out of bounds. Sam couldn’t go to the funeral and was beyond shattered. We all somehow knew that they were going out together.. That they had probably had lifetime after lifetime together. It felt not only tragic, but epic.
I’ve been blessed to have had many beautiful and wise spiritual teachers. But my brother Sam taught me the real essentials.. about love, forgiveness, tolerance, family and how to laugh so hard and long that everything changes in an instant. Sam and I took any residual pain from our childhood and made joke after joke about it.. we had our routines honed, and they always always made us laugh. Those things die with my brother.. nobody else knows those jokes.
There was a little Divine Order at play when Sam decided to finally come home to Boston to see Mom and me and my kids.. and to see a healer that I loved and trusted who had healed some pancreatic cancer patients. Because of that I had some amazing private time with my brother..which was hard to get even during normal visits. We talked a lot. We cried. I dug my fists into his kidneys and did energy work on him for hours until he could sleep when he was in so much pain the night before he went into the hospital.. not knowing he was in organ failure. We told the truth to each other.. always. I thank God for those days and that week.. more than I can ever say.
Then things got very bad.. hospital.. palliative care only.. and dying.. We gathered. My brother Adam and his kids flew in. We stayed with him and loved him. I would have done anything for him.. anything. Before he went truly down under with the pain medication and into the real dying.. he told me he loved me and thanked me for taking care of him. Every night leaving the hospital I played my I-tunes and sobbed in my car in the hour it took to get home. Losing Sam was unimaginable as much as it was obviously underway. Even though my Dad died when I was 23, after a very protracted illness. I have to say this was worse. Sam and I had 45 years together and I trusted and loved him like no other. Maybe the saddest most poignant moment in those last days was when my brother Adam and I were alone with our little brother, who was no longer conscious. Just the three of us. Knowing soon there would only be two of us. We told him how brave he’d been, how much we knew he’d fought.. that we would look after everyone and that he was free to leave his war-torn body and go find Mark and Daddy and all his stray dogs and fly beyond. It was the last time we saw him.
That Wednesday morning I woke up early.. and heard Sam’s voice in my head telling me he had to go.. that he needed to go.. and I said I know.. It was a moment and I felt like I was just making it up in my head. Five minutes later my mom called to tell me Sam had died. I definitely believe he found a way to say goodbye.
As I write this, it’s been about 6 weeks. I don’t feel better. I still cry every day but I try to cordon it off to once a day. Part of me is still in shock I think. It’s just too big to digest completely. My husband Andy is the kindest person I know and I thank God for him. My sons, my mother, my friends. My sister in law is the one I turn to when I miss him the most. I definitely got a sister amidst all of this and I am so grateful for her. And for the other angels that were with us in those last days.. who will be forever etched on my heart as we all moved through those sacred moments together.
As always when I am troubled, I look to sacred teachings and teachers, to time outside in nature, to my small circle of those I love. I am deep in the cycle of death and hopefully rebirth. None of us goes untouched in this life. We all experience great pain, losses, tragedies. In our humanity and in our shared experiences, we come together, and that has moved me deeply. The kindness of other people some of whom I barely know has at times taken my breath away. It goes without saying that I will miss my beloved brother forever. He was my heart and I loved him so.
Denise Hughes says
Dearest Lisa, THANK YOU for sharing this story of love with your brother. I cry as I write this b/c it is so beautiful and from your heart. It touches me deeply. It grips me. It reminds me just how precious every day is with those we hold closest in our hearts.
May your sweet dear private memories with Sam be a soothing balm to you and may you feel his Spirit ever present in your life. XX
Lisa says
Oh Denise.. thank you for reading this.. You know how it went and you went through a loss last year and know that everything changes. I knew I had to write this even though I feared it was too private.. too much. Much love to you my friend.. xox
Stuart says
Lisa, you write so clearly and eloquently about a loss that few of us could ever imagine. Your love and commitment to Sam, as your brother and soul-mate, was always evident. When he was well, you talked about him with a special tone in your voice; when he was not well, you spoke of him with such deep concern and — yet — hope. Thank you for the gift you’ve given us by sharing these deeply personal thoughts.
Lisa says
Stuart.. this made me cry actually.. you just know.. thank you for saying it.. Love you.. Lisa
Debbie Phillips says
Dear, dear Lisa ~
Thank you so so much for sharing your story. My heart goes out to you and your entire family and community. Even in the midst of terrible grief, your gentle spirit and knowing is so beautiful to see. You will be in my thoughts for a long time to come. There is very little written about sibling loss — and this post alone makes an incredible contribution. Love to you, sweet friend.
Lisa says
Debbie.. thank you. I would talk about Sam all day long if I could just to keep my connection to him. Because I have become somebody who writes.. I wrote. I so appreciate your heart and kindnesses.. Love to you.. Lisa
Katelyn Mariah says
Lisa,
I remember the day you told us in the Blogging group that Sam had died. I had been on the Facebook page for him several times and was holding out hope for a miracle. I can’t understand exactly your grief but it feeds into my own because my father died of pancreatic cancer, a devastating disease and I lost my older brother when I was 17 and he was 18. Losing a sibling has it’s own reality and depth of grief. We don’t think about losing them especially so young. It doesn’t even enter our minds and when it happens it is hard to make sense out of it.
Your writing is wonderful because it makes death so real and like you said, raw. In the Western world we try to avoid the reality and you are giving others permission to embrace the process and deeply grieve. Not just for recent deaths but all of the deaths we have experience.
Thank you for being open and vulnerable. I can feel and see what a wonderful man Sam was. Blessings to you as you continue this journey and learn how to live without his physical presence. He is with you in a new way.
Katelyn
Lisa says
Katelyn.. Didn’t realize you’d been through the pancreatic cancer devastation.. so brutal.. such a quick death sentence. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve also had so much loss.. it changes you forever in many ways. You were so much younger and that’s a whole different kind of pain. THere are so many feelings involved in all of this.. not just pain.. some of it’s incredibly beautiful and heart opening.. But as you know the loss is hard to fathom and it takes time to find our way.
thank you for writing to me..
With love.. Lisa
Melanie McGhee says
Dearest,
Thank you for sharing with such authentic eloquence. May you find solace in sweet memories and take delight in echos of shared laughter with Sam. I love you, my friend.
Lisa says
Love you Mel.. thank you for your always loving heart..
Joshua Hauser says
Lisa, thank you for sharing this beautiful essay. You’ve got me thinking, and feeling, and crying. Thinking of Sam, Adam, you, your mom and dad, childhood, adulthood, time passing, family, love, loss, hope – everything. I send you a “hug” across cyberspace and the continent.
Lisa says
Josh..It fills my heart that you felt those things, and you’ve been a good friend, even across the continent after so so many years. I think we can never fully metabolize the idea of death and it absolutely stirs the pot, if we let it. So..crying with you, remembering our childhoods and our beautiful glamorous parents and beautiful siblings with you, and hoping that you will let me know next time you are in town.. With love, Lisa
Rich Williams says
Lisa,
I have no words. Only tears as I read. Thank you.
Rich
Lisa says
Rich..your original tribute to Sam with the pictures and that haunting song carried me through the early days and gave me a place to go and grieve and I was always so grateful to you for that.. thinking of you and sending love.. Lisa
amelia webb says
What beautiful words from such a beautiful woman. I still can’t wrap my head around any of what has transpired.
I feel so blessed to have walked through those final, precious days with you and you incredible family.
My heart breaks for everyone who knew and loved Sam so much.
Thank you for sharing….xoxo
Lisa says
Amelia my love.. you know of course that you were one of the “angels etched in my heart” in my essay.. I will never get over our days together moving through that sacred space.. that temple of sorts.. having you there was for me.. grace. I miss you and love you.. Lisa
Andrea Dinardo says
Lisa,
You are one of the most giving and honest women I know. You feel so deeply and share so bravely in your time of grief. We feel connected to Sam and each other through your writing.Thank you for sharing the gifts of a sister’s deep love in your writing. You feel so deeply – as you were born to love without restraint and write in equal measure. Keep flowing and flowering in both. The world needs your loving truth. WE need your loving truth…
Love Andrea
Lisa says
Andrea..You are a comfort and a blessing..Thank you always for your own strengths and support that I get the benefits of. Can’t wait for our time back with Caroline Myss this week (!!!) where were will be encouraged even more to live congruently with truth.
Much love to you, Lisa
Beth says
Lisa- I pray for time to continue to help heal your heart so that your loving spirit can continue to honor Sam and share other challenges with your beautiful and powerful writings. I am sorry that you have this grief to bear and I am there for you, always.
Lisa says
Beth… you are always there and for that I am deeply grateful and truly blessed.. Love you.. Lisa
Luke says
That was beautiful mom
Lisa says
Luke my son.. I’m so proud of you.. thanks for reading it.. your Uncle adored you and I can’t wait for everyone to hear the amazing song you composed in Sam’s honor..so powerful, your talents are many.. Love.. Mom
Quincy Coleman says
Lisa,
I met your brother Sam through my boyfriend in late January/early February at a car wash of all places here in LA. He had an unforgettable and powerful spirit that exuded zest, humor, and strength…
What you shared above I found so touching, so profound, and so important to this wild ride called life and I thank you. Your friendship with Sam was clearly a huge gift and continues to be through the telling of your story.
Inspired and grateful,
Quincy
Lisa says
Hi Quincy.. funny about the carwash..as Sam’s sister I watched him “pick people up” literally everywhere his whole life.. he was like a Pied Piper of sorts.. Thank you so much for reading and writing.. one of the gifts Sam gave me and left me with was all of this connection.. love and blessings.. Lisa
Quincy Coleman says
Lisa,
if you feel inclined, seeing as music seems to be a part of your healing process, it would be my pleasure to share with you a version of “bridge over troubled water” i recorded that i think you might embrace…it would be MY gift to YOU. If so, feel free to email me at quincycoleman@gmail.com and i will look forward to getting it to you.
with love,
Quincy
Lisa says
Quincy.. i would LOVE that.. I just looked at your website and it/you are beautiful. impressive reviews (dolly parton!!) Love Bridge.. will make me cry I’m sure.. but that’s ok.. will mail you and thank you for the generous and so lovely offer. Maybe we will meet next time I am in L.A… am considering creating a part time practice there actually.
Love and blessings to you..
Lisa
Lisa says
Quincy.. I listened to your gorgeous, heart spinningly beautiful track “Bridge Over Troubled Water” and honestly, Paul Simon has nothing on you.. it was the perfect piece of music for me as I move through my grieving Sam. I just loved your voice and the music.. so so beautiful. I am putting in my small plug for anyone who reads this to go find your music on i-tunes or on your website at
thank you for the gift of your music.. I’ve listened to it over and over..
Hoping we meet soon in Los Angeles..
With much love.. Lisa
Myriam says
Lisa,
Even though I never met Sam in the physical realm, I have a knowing about him, I have learned so much about him through your words and your heart. I appreciate all that you have shared and continue to share of his spirit. I also hold space for you and your family with the hope that you feel his presence regularly and hear his laughter forever.
Lisa says
Thank you beautiful Myriam.. your words are a balm and I am grateful for you and your knowing and way of being in my life.. Much love.. Lisa
Melody says
Lisa, you will carry your beloved brother in your heart and your memories every day. Plus you also know the name of one of your angels who is certainly looking out after you!
You are in my thoughts and prayers. Thank you for sharing this beautiful tribute to him.
Lisa says
Melody, thank you so much for this..Sam was my angel alive and always.. Love and blessings.. Lisa
Kim says
thank you so much. I am so deeply moved by what happened and how you chose to experience it. You were so there for him and his family, but also so honored your own process. Truly inspirational. Thank you for sharing so beautifully.
Lisa says
Kim, thank you for this..I appreciate all of your kindness.. this means so much to me. Much love, Lisa
Esther Friedman says
Thank you for sharing Lisa. I cried as I read. Its healing to cry and then smile. Sam was a great egg. From afar sending love and light to you all.
Lisa says
Thank you Esther.. crying and smiling are the mix right now for sure.. Thanks so much and love to you.. Lisa
Sarge says
Lisa, thank you for the incredible, delicious passage of real love and memories you eloquently spun…I am jealous and anguished that I didn’t get to be there in those precious closing moments…I carry Sam in my heart and your words add tears and relief to my life in a way that I never imagined. thank you for your phenomenal insight and heart. I will NEVER forget him. Love, Sarge