Twenty-one years ago, I suggested to my three brothers that we spend a weekend together in Pittsburgh. It was a halfway point for the four of us scattered between Goshen, Ind., Pandora, Ohio, and Lancaster, Pa.

Our dad, Fred, tagged along for three years once we decided to keep meeting up each spring in the Steel City. Then in his late 70s, he loved hearing us share stories of growing up on the farm and bantering about who was the favorite son. When he died of a brain aneurysm in 2009, the four of us were able to support Mom and help plan his memorial service. We credited Pittsburgh for keeping us on the same page.

In 2018, oldest brother Dan fell off the roof of one of his rental properties, suffering a concussion and multiple broken ribs. Signs of recovery were hopeful until a massive infection set in and he died.

At his memorial service, at the church where he was a beloved deacon, we set up a Pittsburgh display in the receiving line. Anyone who knew the brothers had heard about how significant those weekends had become.

We knew the next gathering would be hard without him, so we decided to visit all our favorite places around the city to scatter some of Dan’s ashes as a tribute. It was bittersweet, but being present in those places provided grounding to our collective grief.

Sometimes it’s important to enact our grief physically. Like the two Marys who had to go to Jesus’ tomb to see for themselves, we needed to do something tangible.

Then, in February 2023, our youngest brother, Pete, died of a brain tumor. Losing one brother was devastating; two was unconscionable. Brother Steve and I went up together to share our tributes for Pete at his funeral at Eighth Street Mennonite Church in Goshen.

A few months later we made the pilgrimage to Pittsburgh for the 19th time to pay homage to our kid brother. With our alpha and omega siblings gone, we once again revisited our favorite places around the city with a playful mix of stories, lingering sorrow and laughter.

April 2024 marked the 20th year for the brothers’ weekend. Steve and I decided to have one more weekend together before changing it up to include our sons and nephews. There are some places we always visit while in Pittsburgh, but this time we decided to just play it by ear and stay in the moment. Time had tempered the absence of Dad, Dan and Pete. We know it will never be the same.

Getting together consistently created an unbreakable bond of love and brotherhood — not unlike the commitments we made to our congregations. We show up, break bread together and share our gifts of wholeness and brokenness. When that happens, we love each other more. And when the inevitable journey through the valley of the shadow of death comes, we will have memories, hopes and unshakable faith that we are not alone.

Jim S. Amstutz, of Ephrata, Pa., is a retired pastor and educator and a member of Blossom Hill Mennonite Church.