Honoring my Brother

“Sometimes, heartbreak isn’t the end.It’s the invitation to love in the waywe always wished someone would love us.”- Glenn S. CohenAs many of you know, I’ve been on a long, soulful journey of healing and awakening. Most recently, that journey took an unexpected turn, one that cracked me wide open. The end of a committed love relationship stirred something profound in me. Oh it hurt, a lot, but it also invited me to love in a way I never had before.Growing up, especially after the age of 8 or so, I began building walls. Protective walls. I disconnected from my parents and siblings, including my older brother Bruce. I withdrew into isolation, guarding the pain of sadness, fear, and shame that I didn’t yet have the tools to process. Bruce and I weren’t close, not out of malice, but because I kept myself hidden behind years of silence.Bruce was always the outgoing one, an extrovert with a magnetic personality. I used to joke that he was the unofficial mayor of Charleston. Me? I was the invisible one. Soft-spoken. Highly sensitive. I often nodded through conversations, pretending I could hear, thanks to numerous ear surgeries in childhood.Fast forward to now: Bruce was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis about 18 months ago. It’s a terrible degenerative disease, and his only real shot at life was a lung transplant. After months of uncertainty and suffering, he received that miracle on February 26, 2025. He was released from the hospital 32 days later, on March 30th.And I was there almost every day. Not out of obligation. Not out of guilt. But because something in me had changed.I brought him breakfast. TCBY. Vanilla milkshakes. I sat with him for hours, not to check a box, but to show up in love. I consciously chose to love him like I never had before. I stepped out of my old protective patterns of judgment, avoidance, rigidity and leaned into a new way of being, one rooted in presence, compassion, and spiritual love.Each day before I left, I kissed him on the forehead and told him I loved him. For the first time in our lives, I said those words. And he said them back. He thanked me from his heart. That moment filled my heart with love and gratitude in the most beautiful way.And I keep wondering: if the heartbreak of 11/11/24 hadn’t happened, would I have had the capacity to love Bruce like that? Would I have shown up in that room with a heart wide open?I don’t know. But I do know that life has a way of orchestrating the exact circumstances we need to heal our wounds and grow ourselves back upAs I often say in my Neurological IntelligenceÒ book series, events happen for a reason. But that reason usually only becomes clear in the rearview mirror. It’s the Hero’s Journey. We’re all invited to it. The question is, will we answer the call? Will we choose to wake up, grow up, show up, and be inspired to give the kind of love we always wanted and needed?I’m so deeply proud of my brother Bruce Cohen for fighting like hell with grace, humor, and humility. He endured multiple procedures and exhausting recovery walks with the soul of a warrior. He’s not done yet, but come summer, I know he’ll be rolling again like the Bruce of old.Healing my relationship with my brother felt like learning how to play a song I’d always heard in the background, but this time, I finally knew the chords. So, has there ever been a moment when life cracked your heart open and gave you the chance to love more deeply than ever before?If this message touched something in you, I invite you to visit my website at www.centerforni.com and subscribe to my Substack newsletter at the bottom of the homepage. Thank you for allowing me to share my heart. With love, Glenn Get full access to Neurological Intelligence: Lessons in LIfe, Love and Healing at centerforni.substack.com/subscribe