Fallen soldiers' siblings often left alone to cope

The photo tells one story: brothers Chad and Ian Weikel, all smiles, arms around each other on Ian's wedding day. The tattoos now on Chad's forearms tell another -- about his anguish over his brother's death in Iraq.

Words such as "rage," "alone" and "fury" are interwoven in the tattoos along with the likeness of Capt. Ian Weikel, a West Point graduate. Chad, 32, says his older brother's death in 2006 put him on a path that led to divorce and a decision to enlist in the Army Reserves. He recently moved from Colorado Springs, Colo., to Washington for a fresh start after a car crash kept him from starting basic training.

"It got pretty dark after all the services and all the family and friends stopped coming by," Weikel said. "We were very close. I miss him every day."

Weikel is one of the wars' forgotten mourners, the brothers and sisters of those killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Unlike a parent or spouse, they don't typically get the knock at the door notifying them of a sibling's death. At a time when they, too, are grieving, they find themselves doing the comforting, writing the thank you notes and mediating family disputes.

About 100 siblings and their spouses met recently in Las Vegas for a weekend retreat organized by Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, a Washington-based nonprofit group that offers support to anyone who lost a loved one in the armed forces.

TAPS says there are thousands of surviving siblings from the recent wars. A majority are in their 20s or 30s -- a time when many are starting careers and families.

There have been divorces and suicide attempts among siblings taking part in an online private support group facilitated by TAPS, according to Ami Neiberger-Miller, 38, a spokeswoman for the organization. Her brother,

22-year-old Army Spc. Christopher Neiberger of Gainesville, Fla., died in Iraq on Aug. 6, 2007.

"Your spouse really joins you in life kind of late in life. ... Your parents will leave you late in your life, but you expect your siblings to be with you through all of this. You expect for them to be at your wedding. You expect for them to be with you when you bury your parents," Neiberger-Miller said. "You don't expect to be watching your family go through that."

In one case, Spc. Andrew Velez, 22, of Lubbock, Texas, took his life while serving in Afghanistan in 2006, two years after his brother, Spc. Jose A. Velez, 23, died in Iraq. Their sister, Monica Velez, 30, of Austin, Texas, says people fail to understand sibling grief.

"As a brother or sister, they feel like you're supposed to be over it," she said. "It's not understood that this is somebody you've had all your life. A lot of people don't understand that loss of companionship."

Like Weikel, she participates in the online group, which has grown from just a few siblings who exchanged e-mails to more than 180. They say without their brother or sister they feel incomplete and often feel pressure to fill the sibling's shoes and work to keep the family close.

Culturally in the United States, the death of a sibling isn't considered as significant as losing a child or spouse, and there are few resources available on adult sibling loss, said Darcie Sims, a psychologist who is helping with the recent retreat.

A surviving sibling's spouse or friends "may not realize the depth of your grief or understand why you're grieving so much," Sims said. Even when brothers or sisters weren't close it can be painful because the survivor also is grieving that problems weren't resolved, Sims said.

A common complaint among siblings is that well-meaning people don't ask about them.

Karen Veater Walker, 31, of Old Forge, Pa., the oldest of six kids whose youngest brother, Marine Reserve Lance Cpl. Dennis Veater, 20, died in Iraq, says people frequently ask her about her parents, her brother's fiancé or his son.

"Sometimes this little piece of me wanted to yell out like, 'What about me? Are you going to ask how I'm doing?'<2009>" Walker said. Since her brother's death, another brother is coping with addiction and amily's relationship with her brother's fiancé has become strained, leading to the loss of a bond with her young nephew.

Weikel says he wanted to avenge his brother's death in 2006. Once the dust settled, he says he started to feel a calling to join the military -- a decision opposed by his family. Before he was to leave last year for basic training, he was in a serious car accident that left him in a coma for days.

Meanwhile, his marriage crumbled.

"I definitely wasn't the husband I needed to be. I just wasn't around enough. I was around, but I wasn't present," Weikel said.

He says he's slowly worked through his pain and finds himself feeling optimistic about the future.

He points to the tattoos on his arms and explains that the emotional words in his tattoos are designed in a way that spells "Hope."

"Through all those emotions, I still have hope," he said.