Multiple losses will weigh on us as we get older

A few days ago, my sister, Mary, tried to call me and left a voice message, but it was garbled so I didn't understand it. It sounded urgent, so I called her back early the next morning. And I found out that my youngest brother, Rex, had died the day before.

It's awful to lose a sibling. It's next to the intense grief, for most, suffered after the loss of a beloved spouse, which is even worse. Rex was in bad shape from a blood infection some years ago, and recently went into kidney failure. So we knew the end was coming.

But oddly, knowing this does not really ease the blow. "Anticipatory grief" is supposed to make it easier, but in my experience that's not always the case, especially when a cherished spouse, a sibling, parent, very close friend or dear relative dies.

So my mind started racing over our childhood and Rex's life. He was such a sweet child, the youngest of four. He became a commercial pilot after serving in the Air Force, where he was a flight engineer based in Turkey. After the Air Force, he went to an aeronautics college in Oklahoma and was among the youngest commercial pilots in the U.S. He went to work as a corporate pilot for Bendix Corp., living life in the fast lane. Later he went to work flying for Southwest Airlines.

He was extremely handsome and had such a friendly and positive personality. He was tall and blond. Funny but we four siblings did not look like each other - one with black hair and brown eyes, another with auburn red hair, me with brown hair and green eyes, and Rex blond and blue-eyed.

Rex was always positive, even over the last few years when he was confined to a rehab facility in Florida. He made lots of friends wherever he was. He always insisted he was doing well and getting better. I have an especially nice photo of the four of us together as children, when Rex was just 3. I'll move that to a more prominent place.

He wants his ashes spread out in the Colorado mountains.

Growing up, he used to knock on my bedroom door when I was studying. I didn't give him as much attention as I should have. Sometimes none at all. Such thoughts are bound to plague a person in grief. Not serious regrets, but small matters you wish you could change or do over. It's too late of course. I was in high school and I think teenagers are self-centered, but that's no excuse.

Other than that I think I was a good sister. Rex was, for some reason, a bit insecure as a child and slept with a big stuffed horse in his bed who was his "pet." He should have had a dog. I think the fourth child in a family of four children sometimes really feels last.

Rex admired the fact that my father had been an Army Air Corps flight instructor in World War II when he was in his 20s. We had lots of pictures of planes around the house and Dad in his uniform. And Dad owned his own airplane. He sold it after we kids started coming along. On Sunday afternoon "drives," for entertainment, Dad always took us to the local airport to watch the airplanes land and take off. Dad loved flying and so did Rex.

Dad gave Rex his Air Corps leather flight jacket. There wasn't an Air Force until after World War II. Rex decided at an early age he wanted to be a pilot. And he did.

A while ago I mailed Rex a wonderful framed photo of himself in his flight captain's uniform - so young and dashing. He hung it in his room at the rehab center to remember and show people his triumphs in the good years. I got the photo from my mother's place when we were closing it up after her death. She had it hanging in her bedroom.

So now my sister and I have lost both our brothers: Rex, the youngest, and the eldest child, Nic. Rex was six or seven years younger than I am, Nic only one year older. Mary and Rex were only one year apart and much younger than Nic and myself, so they grew up together as buddies like Nic and I did.

I just had a prayer chat with my brother Nic, hoping Rex is with him in the spirit world, and asked that Nic will look after him.

I've written before about how hard it is when these sad deaths accumulate, and it is so true. Multiple losses weigh heavily. As we get older, these happen quite a bit around us as more family and friends pass away.

So the point is: With each sad death, we have to muster up all the strength and defenses we can to cope with and manage our grief.

In my case, today I will meet a nice friend for lunch and talk of cheerful plans, and order my favorite octopus. I won't tell her about my brother, not today. It will just make me cry. Self-protection is important. We all have our limits. I'll tell her another day when I get a grip.

• Susan Anderson-Khleif of Sleepy Hollow has a doctorate in family sociology from Harvard, taught at Wellesley College and is a retired Motorola executive. Contact her at sakhleif@comcast.net or see her blog longtermgrief.tumblr.com. See previous columns at www.dailyherald.com/topics/Anderson-Kleif-Susan.