A Brother

So, yesterday was the kind of day that, after hearing the news, three dirty Belvedere martinis left me as sober as a sleeping judge.

There aren’t that many people who can express friendship, authenticity, and generosity without a word, just a smile. My dad was one of those people, so was my brother. Our professional family of rag tag DDS-types lost a brother yesterday. And it’s not easy losing two brothers without ever knowing why.

You could count my interactions with Scott on a couple of hands; we shared a back table during our recent 2-day Winter AACA meeting in New Orleans but I got to know him a little better during a winter meeting in Jamaica just before Covid-19. Being a Californian, I was the instant Richter scale expert, estimating a 4.2 quake that turned out being a 7.7. Our group took the high ground and some Red Stripes up at the golf course while the less tremor educated stayed down by the beach.

Scott was our resident root canal guru and his restorative dentistry looked way more beautiful than teeth were meant to appear. I’d always ask Scott how his dad was doing; when I met Alan during a Reingage training in San Jose, we were clearly the two old guys. And Alan seemed like Scott, but several decades into the future; and he must’ve asked me if I was “retired yet”, at least ten times (I don’t think he was kidding, but...)

You could see Scott’s understanding, empathetic, and welcoming nature in every photo I’ve seen from the two WhatsApp chats that keep our unlikely and unique professional family connected. You can see the relaxed confidence and almost hear, “Don’t worry, we got this.” I’m sure Scott’s easy smile let his patients know he was interested, cared, and that they were safe.

Even after last night’s martini barrage, a long morning walk, and a Florida call from another concerned, grieving dental family brother, I couldn’t get past the sense of loss…even though it wasn’t new for me. I wish I could say I can’t imagine how Scott’s family is trying to cope. But I can. Things and lives will never be the same. But support from family is everything. And, who knew the love and support that will help so much could come from brothers and sisters of a dental organization? And who knew a dental organization like the American Academy of Clear Aligners could ever be founded on core values like love and family?

After my big brother’s loss, my default stance was to internalize the bitterness, hopelessness, and anger; I focused on supporting my parents any way I could. Period. Years later, when I started publishing columns for local newspapers, the essays sort of compensated for the therapy I needed, but never had. It was hard engaging a conversation about stuff like fear of loss and being overwhelmed with insecurity and being afraid to get close. It was much easier writing to the community than having a legit painfully honest conversation. But it’s conversations that can save lives…and families.

We’ll never come close to compensating for the loss of a husband, father, and man like Scott. But we can sure as hell look at one of countless photos and remember the relaxed, confident smile, and the love...and “Don’t worry, we got this.”

“Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.”

Robin Williams