Like in many families, this Christmas in my home there won't just be one empty chair, but two. Just 10 months ago we lost one of the most important people in my life, my brother, a man of only 38 years, a father and husband, a good friend, kind, a bit of a joker, hardworking, a fighter, a little foul-mouthed but funny. His passing was so sudden, and that makes it incredibly painful. Before, when people told me they had lost a brother, I didn't fully grasp what it meant. Today I say, how could it not hurt when you lose a lifelong companion and friend?

Our siblings are the only ones with whom we share upbringing, the fortune and hardships of the home; they are the ones with whom you invent games; siblings accompany you in life, in the best and worst moments, they celebrate your joys and suffer your misfortunes; how can their absence not hurt?

There were four of us, three girls and one boy, the apple of my parents' eye, the darling of the family. Today I'm grateful that my mother was able to love and spoil him so much, she gave him so much love. I know he loved her as much as she loved him. We didn't live in a wealthy home, but if anything kept us strong, it was our unity. Despite the hardships of any household with alcoholism (many will understand what I'm talking about), we managed to have a good time in our own way: watching cartoons, waiting for TV shows, playing pranks or fighting, looking out for each other. Well, my younger sister and brother took better care of me. I was the crybaby and supposedly the weakest. I still think about that little girl and I don't think I'm the same person anymore, but they taught me to be strong, to not be afraid, and to defend myself.

When I turned 10, my dad stopped drinking . He's my second loss . I wrote him a few lines on this very platform at some point. My father, a man who suffered greatly as a child, became an alcoholic and drug addict. For many years, we suffered because of his illness, but on February 8, 1995, my dad stopped drinking and using drugs, and thank God, our lives changed. My birthday is February 27th, and somehow, I felt like it was a birthday gift. My dad always sought the approval of my brother, his only son. Ironically, the two were very similar, so they had a lot of friction. They loved each other in a wild way, as we say, so much so that they couldn't live without one another.

Despite their disagreements, my father suffered greatly from my brother's death. He immersed himself in cigarettes, memories, photos, and videos. Every day, all he did was look at his photos and smoke. Sadly, my father was diagnosed with liver cancer, as he already had liver disease.

In April of this year, the doctor gave us the news, along with "if it's cancer there's nothing that can be done." Very hard and painful months followed, in which we were grieving the loss of my brother and at the same time preparing for the second loss, watching my father decline. That strong and great man, with character, independent, gradually weakened and aged, losing his strength and depending on us. In the midst of public hospitals, medicines, and much pain, I said goodbye to my father.

Today, experiencing two losses simultaneously, I think of those empty chairs, of the pain left by the two men in my life, the ones who gave me security and strength, the ones with whom I wasn't afraid of anything, the ones I called when I needed those "manly things." Of course, I'm married and have my own home, but believe me, when your childhood family starts to fall apart, you feel an overwhelming pain, one that's hard to explain, a profound sense of absence and fear. I'm healing and focusing on myself, with therapy, exercise, and seeking my health, trying to find the best way to be well, but I'm also living through my own process, my pain, and my grief.

If you are also going through this process, I want to invite you to embrace it, to give yourself space, to allow yourself to feel. Let's not give in to that pain, as it is part of what we human beings experience. And if you are not going through this and there is still time,

LOVE AND HUG your loved ones, because we never know when we'll have an empty chair.