From Grief to Grace: How Steve Witkoff Found Strength After Tragedy

By: Alex Witkoff | Commentary, The New York Post

My father, Steve Witkoff, has always been a man of compassion. His life has been built on a simple creed: When people suffer, you do not look away — you step forward and help.

He did not come from privilege. His father was a coat manufacturer, and at 29, with no financial safety net, he took the leap to start his own business.

Hard work was his inheritance; perseverance his language. Even as he built a career from nothing, he never allowed success to eclipse his humanity or his devotion to family.

Between 2009 and 2011, our family faced the greatest trial imaginable: My older brother, Andrew, was battling addiction — a disease that consumed his spirit but never his light.

My parents surrounded him with constant care, but a lapse in security at his treatment center allowed him to leave unattended.

On Aug. 14, 2011, Andrew passed away unexpectedly from an overdose at just 22.

That moment shattered us. Yet from the depths of that grief, my father emerged with a renewed purpose: to ensure no other family would suffer alone.

For him, philanthropy has never been only about writing checks. It is also about showing up — personally, directly and without fanfare.

He would read stories of parents who had lost children and drive to their homes in The Bronx or Queens, unannounced, simply to offer comfort.

One of those quiet encounters was with Lasharn Harvey, a homeless woman who sat outside our office in New York.

Beyond financial support, she became part of our family — a guest at Thanksgiving, and a friend my father guided through treatment when she was diagnosed with a devastating brain tumor.

These were not grand gestures. They were acts of love.

During those dark years, one person who continually stood by our family was Donald J. Trump. Away from cameras and politics, he called constantly — not to discuss business or headlines, but to ask how we were holding up.

His compassion meant the world to us. When he later became president, he and the first lady made the opioid epidemic a national priority and invited my father to share Andrew’s story at the White House Opioids Summit in 2018.

It was a moment when private pain became public purpose — when a father’s grief found meaning in service to others.

Those experiences became my father’s moral compass — the lens through which he now views every act of service.

READ THE FULL ARTICLE AT THE NEW YORK POST

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