It has been 31yrs since I lost my 18yr old baby brother to neglect, brutality, mis-representation, mental illness and injustice. Not a day goes by that I do not think about him and what might have been.
This might shock you…
But it was inevitable given the mother we shared for there to be any other ending for such a sensitive, artistic, funny, loving brother.
An ending, which still traumatises me today.
The events that led up to his death and how he died were things no teenager should ever have to deal with. But the universe has a way of preparing and cushioning you against the worst incidents that can occur in life. When you can’t make sense of what is going on at the time; And it might seem that a greater power (known by many names) is showing you something unexpected. Something you might think is adding to your pain and confusion. But that you later discover you are grateful for.
It’s a chapter in my life that is forever open, but which I have avoided looking into too closely for fear of falling into the abyss.
The truth is just like Mrs Haversham I have been reliving intimate pieces of this chapter over and over again.
But this is the 21st centuary right? We are making progress in recognising mental illness so it’s time to rip off the plaster or band-aid. Allowing a healthy scab to form, which will eventually fall off to reveal some new flesh…
A new chapter.