Grieving The Loss Of My Only Sibling

My brother, Adarsh, passed away.

I’m no stranger to loss, but navigating the passing of my only sibling has been the most heartbreaking and excruciatingly painful loss I’ve experienced to date.

There is so much I could say about my big brother. He was extremely intelligent, warm, selfless, and loyal. He was professional, composed, and steadfast, but also had a goofy, fun side with those closest to him. Adarsh means ‘ideal’ or ‘perfect model’ in Sanskrit, which couldn’t have been an easy name to live up to, since no one or nothing can be perfect. But he certainly tried with his high moral standards and so many unique, commendable characteristics.

Like a lot of younger siblings, I was often the annoying little sister who wanted attention from, and looked up to and adored my big brother. He was an old soul who loved learning so much that he was an excellent conversationalist about almost any topic. He was always one of the smartest people in any room, regardless of age. While his peers were playing and watching cartoons, he was already sitting with the grown-ups debating politics, discussing current events, and referencing history that he took it upon himself to learn what most kids his age hadn’t even been taught in school yet. I was in awe of his mind and how he was able to retain information and speak so calmly and eloquently. He inspired me to want to learn more just to keep up with him.

He was born in Hyderabad, India, on October 14th, 1988, and immigrated to the US along with my parents before I was born. He was so proud to become an American citizen with roots tied to India’s rich ancient cultural heritage. I was the first in my family to be born in the United States, and he taught me the importance and significance of my birth. It helped instill a lot of the pride I carry today as a first-generation Indian American woman. Even further, it was he who taught me about ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’ from the U.S. Declaration of Independence long before any school teacher would. He would make us read it every single year on the 4th of July, and as life took us in different directions, he’d still text me a video recitation of it. It was somewhat of a quirky tradition, but as very sentimental siblings, we had a lot of those.

My big brother ensured I wasn’t just consuming only stuff made for kids. He had us listening to NPR, watching PBS and CSPAN, so many documentaries, debates, Jeopardy, and the news from multiple media platforms because it's important to get different perspectives. The same went for learning about different religions. He's the only person I know who took his own time to read various religious texts. He could easily deduce so many parallels and wisdom from them, like how history transpired, how society functions today, and more. He was a great teacher, making sure we had deep critical conversations, and reminded me that I would appreciate it all the more when I was older, which he was right about.

Don't worry, though, it wasn't always educational; he also shared his love of sports and especially basketball with me. Our love for the San Antonio Spurs was something we were passionate about up until the very end. This playoff season has been particularly bittersweet as the Spurs made their way back to the Western Conference Finals for the first time in years, but as I watch every game, I miss the conversations I'd have with Adarsh from shouting at the TV together as kids, to texting during games as we got older and watched from different places, and the post-game analysis phone calls. It didn't matter where in the world life took us physically; it was a topic we enjoyed equally. We were hoping for a repeat of the 1999 finals versus the Knicks this year, and I love that it's still a possibility. Win or lose, he would have loved this postseason so much.

My big brother also cared deeply about others, often putting everyone else, our parents, and me included, before himself. His duty as a son came above all else before his own needs and desires. He took the responsibility of being the eldest son extremely seriously and cared more about others' happiness and well-being than his own. It showed through his words, actions, and sacrifices. While I know Adarsh had many dreams of his own, he focused on what others expected of him and was determined to fulfill their dreams instead. He also helped embolden me to dream big and follow my own path professionally and personally, despite expectations or what others may think. I wish he had followed his own advice in that respect, but I guess that doesn't matter at this point. 

Something a lot of people might not know is that Adarsh and I were physically separated from each other from a young age, too. I was sent to an international boarding school and wasn't brought back home until Adarsh was graduating high school and was heading straight to medical school. We didn't know it at the time, but we would never live under the same roof again, like when we were kids. In fact, the 1999 NBA Finals were the first and last time we got to experience the Spurs winning it all together in person. Life took us in very different directions, physically, but despite the multitude of time zones between us, we made an effort to remain extremely close as much as we could and cherished what few in-person moments we did have throughout the years. He was the person I texted and talked to the most for hours on end. We had a unique shared lived experience that only we could have lived and witnessed, and now I'm left navigating it all without him.

This is probably most of what you will find about Adarsh, because he was a very private person and didn't care much for social media, or taking photos for that matter. In fact, I always got his permission the few times I’ve posted about him in the past. Though he was quieter online, I was grateful that he always checked out all that I was creating and doing. He was one of my biggest advocates, and a big reason I am who I am today.

We were both raised to be extremely competitive, often against each other, too. I can hold my own because I was up against one of the best. Academically, he was the book-smart one, while I was the more creative one, who was still smart in my own right, though it was hard to notice and acknowledge until I was older. We’d battle it out in so many arenas. He was my first player 1, the Mario to my Luigi in endless hours of Super Mario World, but it was in the versus video games, like NBA Jam, NBA 2K, Mario Kart, Mario Party, Smash, and more, where we had the most fun, though I’d almost always lose to my big brother. The desire to be as good as him made me follow in his footsteps a lot, from learning how to play the violin, playing basketball and tennis, leveling up in Taekwondo, and beyond. We also had some epic fights, but our sibling rivalry went as deep as our bond. In many ways, we were completely different, but in others, we were also similar.

Something Adarsh and I both did when life got heavy was to isolate ourselves and carry our burdens alone so as not to be a burden to others. We survived in silence while handling or learning most things on our own. The outlier for me was Adarsh, and eventually Adam. In fact, Adarsh would call my relationship with Adam a miracle, because I finally let someone in. Even with the physical distance, Adarsh made it a point to build a beautiful relationship with Adam over the past decade, too, despite others in our families not accepting our relationship because of religious and cultural differences. I'm grateful for the long all-nighter calls the three of us had. But even though my big brother always tried to put on a strong front, holding back as much as we attempted to break through to him, I find comfort in knowing that he isn't struggling anymore, despite the circumstances that we were dealt, all things considered.

Adarsh's passing was truly untimely, unfortunate, and tragic. While I'm still at a loss on how to talk about it, I intend to continue sharing stories about my brother that celebrate the truly remarkable person he was for anyone willing to listen. I want people to know how he lived, and how, as my older brother, he was my first friend and closest confidant. As someone who writes daily to process life and creates to heal, this is my first attempt. I'm hoping it will not only keep his memory alive but also help me navigate this devastating grief while trying not to close myself off from others by holding it all in. The last time I experienced a lot of loss, I went dark for ~5 years, but I hope this time will be different. Maybe by posting this publicly, it might also pop up for someone who knew Adarsh, who might reach out with stories and memories about him that I haven't heard.

There aren't enough words to describe how this past month has been since he passed on April 21st, 2026. Per Hindu tradition, he was cremated, marking the beginning of his soul's spiritual journey beyond the physical world. Over the next couple of weeks, poojas and rituals were held to pray for his soul, concluding with a Vaikunta Samardhana, a ceremonious memorial of sorts. This was all happening in India while I was in the US, trying my best to hold it all together and move forward day by day as if nothing had changed, even though his loss has changed me forever. It's forced me to confront how fragile life is, and don’t even get me started on running a small business while grieving. It’s been extremely hard. Losing Adarsh feels like losing a part of my history. There is so much more to my brother's story, and mine, and certainly more than I'd like to dive into right now, but it's something I believe should be told someday.

I was very lucky to be Adarsh's little sister. I'm so grateful to have experienced his support, love, guidance, and so much more, and I'll hold on to those lessons, feelings, and memories for as long as I'm alive. I know I'll never get my big brother back, but I know he'd be disappointed if I didn't continue living life, enjoying the liberties I fought for, and keep pursuing my happiness.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out with flowers, letters, and more. It's the first time I've ever received condolences like this, and I'm thankful for the support, especially the patience. To everyone who’s been asking how they can support me, I want to keep Adarsh’s memory alive, and I'd appreciate the encouragement and reminder that it’s okay to talk about and celebrate his life, regardless of how it ended.

I love and miss you so much, Annayya.