Every now and then, a movie finds you at exactly the right moment.
Not because you’re looking for it.
But because it somehow finds words for feelings you’ve been carrying for years.
That happened to me while watching Voicemails for Isabelle on Netflix.
About fourteen minutes into the movie, there is a scene in the hospital that caught me completely off guard.
Without giving away spoilers, it shows a sister desperately hoping to see her sibling, only to be told that she didn’t make it.
The moment the doctor delivered the news, I felt full-body chills.
Then I started sobbing.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it felt real.
In an instant, I wasn’t sitting on my couch anymore.
I was back in March 2023.
I was back in the hospital after my little brother, Jesse, was struck by a vehicle.
We stood beside him in the first emergency room while doctors fought to save him. Then he was rushed to another hospital for emergency surgery. We never got to see him again.
Instead, we waited.
And then the doctors walked out to tell us that he hadn’t survived.
Watching that scene brought me right back to that hallway.
To that waiting.
To hearing words that changed my life forever.
As hard as it was to watch, another feeling surprised me.
For the first time, I found myself thinking:
Someone in Hollywood finally gets it.
So often, stories about grief focus on parents who lose children, spouses who lose partners, or children who lose parents.
Those stories matter.
But sibling grief is often left in the background.
This movie didn’t erase that pain.
It simply acknowledged that it exists.
That mattered to me more than I expected.
It also made me think about Jesse.
There are still moments when I instinctively want to pick up my phone and text him.
His phone number still exists.
Sometimes I catch myself looking at old messages.
Sometimes I just wish I could hear his voice one more time.
Grief changes over time.
The way I miss Jesse today isn’t exactly the way I missed him three years ago.
It keeps changing because my life keeps changing.
I’ve become a mom.
I’ve welcomed two beautiful children into the world.
Every new chapter reminds me of another chapter Jesse never got to live.
Maybe that’s what sibling grief really is.
Not only grieving who your brother or sister was.
But grieving the piece of yourself that disappeared with them.
Grieving the conversations you’ll never have.
The phone calls you’ll never make.
The inside jokes that ended too soon.
If you’ve found this article because you searched for Voicemails for Isabelle after losing your own sibling, I want you to know something.
You are not alone.
There are more of us out here than you probably realize.
People carrying the same empty chair.
The same unanswered text messages.
The same memories.
One day at a time.
I’ve learned that grief is love with nowhere to go.
Some days it feels like you’re drowning.
Some days you remember how to float.
The important thing is that you keep choosing to come up for air.
And if today all you can do is tread water…
That’s enough.
From Jesse’s Justice
No one should have to walk through grief alone.
Whether you’ve experienced a sudden loss, are supporting someone who is grieving, or simply found your way here today, we’re glad you’re here.
Through free grief resources, advocacy, education, and community support, we strive to honor Jesse’s life by helping others navigate theirs.
If this article resonated with you, please consider sharing it. You never know who may need these words today.
♥️🖤 For Jesse. For Justice.