Our brother Dustan passed quickly and unexpectedly the day after Palm Sunday this past week, giving new meaning to Good Friday for our family.

It seems cosmically cruel as we haven’t even had the time to grieve from losing our brother Drew in December, and three other family members in rapid order the preceding three years. A brother-in-law, Dave; a third brother, Dan; and our mother, Lois, the matriarch of our large family.

Unbelievably, five significant deaths in just over five years. Kyrie eleison. … Lord have mercy.

In times like these it’s difficult to believe that Good Friday will end, and that the sun will rise gloriously on Easter morning. But alas, we are an Easter people after all, and Jesus’ promises of his — and thus our — resurrection either mean something … or they don’t.

Oh, I would be lying to you if I told you that parts of me aren’t numb. There’s been so many family goodbyes in such a short time that I struggle to comprehend how our once large family has been cut in half.

There’s even been days when there’s been no tears to fall at all. Zero drops. Just gritty, dry eye sockets, and a gray pall that has fallen over the days, draining away the color of the Creator’s beautiful world.

So just what does one do with all that grief? … Unfortunately, there are no simple answers.

Because the reality is that living a faithful life doesn’t mean we live a life free from hurt. Rather, it means living a life fully aware that the hurts will come, sometimes even bad enough to steal away your breath, and yet it is critical that we rise each day to find the resurrection moments.

I dearly miss all five of these family members, and Dustan’s recent death means the one sibling that I actually did grow up with is now gone. There’s no sugarcoating the chasm that has opened in my heart.

But I’m also consoled by so many people who have reached out to offer their support, their prayers and even their favorite memories of my brother. There’s no doubt that he was a genuine character, and he made an indelible impact on everyone he came across.

It’s not quite a replacement for my brother, but the widespread love shared reminds me of how we truly are all woven together into creation’s one tapestry. And that is sort of a Balm of Gilead.

The irony of living in a post-Easter period but feeling only the reality of Good Friday doesn’t escape me.

But this weekend, my four remaining siblings and I, along with many other family members, friends and other loved ones will gather together, embrace and lay our brother to rest, knowing we too will join that heavenly party one day.

Rest in peace, brother. You’ve earned it. Love, your little brother. Amen.

Devlyn Brooks is the CEO of Churches United in Moorhead, Minn., and an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America serving Faith Lutheran Church in Wolverton, Minn. He blogs about faith at findingfaithin.com, and can be reached at devlynbrooks@gmail.com.