The hardest goodbye to my big brother….

The last few weeks have been some of the hardest of our lives with the sudden loss of my big brother Stuart. And whilst I know that he is gone, and whilst I am well aware of the heartache he left behind, it still doesn’t feel real. As you all know this isn’t my first experience of grief, nor will it sadly be my last, but losing a sibling is unlike anything I have experienced before. The layers of grief, and the complexity of those emotions, are impossible to describe and I hope that those of you reading this will never know such sadness for yourself.

Losing my brother is to lose a part of my childhood I can no longer get back. To lose the only other person who remembers the magical and the mundane, the mischief and the mayhem. The moments shared on Christmas morning when we’d wake at the crack of dawn waiting for our parents to tell us if “he” had been. The memories we’d make on holidays when we’d silently plot ways to prank our Dad or get one over on our Mum. The madness of those Friday nights sneaking in drunk when we’d make a pact to cover for each other if ever we got caught out.

Losing my brother is to lose the children’s Uncle who they loved and adored for all his quirks. The first time any of my four have experienced grief, especially for someone so young. The first time they have had to confront death and the harsh reality that nothing lasts forever. The first time they have had to watch the grown-ups who have always been their rock need comforting in reverse.

Losing my brother is to lose a part of my parents that I will no doubt grieve forever. The realisation that from the very moment I told them the news, their whole world changed indefinitely. The heartache of seeing the two people I love more than anything in this world grieving for their child, knowing there is nothing at all I can do to make it better. The sadness of knowing that 17 years on, I’m still missing my son in just the same way.

Losing my brother has changed everything and yet the world keeps on turning and people go about their day and Christmas will come around and a New Year will begin. I’m not sure how we will ever accept that our family of four is now just a trio, how I will ever come to terms with being a sister without a sibling, or even begin to piece together a new life with someone I have never lived without. I guess I know from experience that these things take time, that grief is an ongoing process, and that although it won’t be easy, we will survive this in just the same way we have survived every heartache this far.

Last week we said our final goodbyes and I wanted to share the words I read during the service which sum up some of my favourite childhood memories of Stuart which will continue to make me smile even on our darkest days.

Being two years older than me, I don’t remember a life without Stuart in it. He was my first best friend and admittedly, at times, my first enemy. Obviously, I can’t remember our first few years together, but my parents tell me that Stuart wasn’t exactly jumping for joy when I came along and it took more than a little persuasion to come around to the idea of having a sister to grow up with.

 I’ve been thinking a lot about our childhood and my earliest memories are of the silly games we would play and the endless fun we would have on our stilts or our go-kart which my dad knocked up in the garage out of old bits of wood. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t pass health and safety regulations these days and I think we both still have the scars to prove that.

One of my favourite childhood memories of Stuart is during a holiday to the Isle of Man when we had this amazing idea to dig a huge hole on the beach, cover it with jagged slate rocks, mask it by a layer of sand and ask my dad to stand on the exact same spot thinking he would fall into the hole and it would be our finest moment yet. What actually happened was my dad stood on the spot as planned but his foot fell into the hole, the jagged rocks slicing through his skin and, with blood pouring out of him, we got a pretty stern telling off whilst my poor dad spent the whole holiday hobbling around. Secretly we still though it was hilariously funny and I’m pretty sure our Mum did too.

My dad was often at the brunt of our jokes and one of mine and Stuarts favourite tricks was to switch the wrappers on the Quality Street chocolates each year so when my Dad thought he was tucking into a hazelnut whirl, he’d actually end up with his arch nemesis – coconut! It was a genius trick and one I’ve since passed on to the children who think it’s just as funny as Stuart and I did.

I remember that as a child Stuart was obsessed with fossils and dinosaurs and his prized possession was a signed postcard from David Bellamy which he kept in his treasure chest under his bed. Sometimes I used to sneak into his room just to look at it because I knew how special it was to him and, as his younger annoying sister, he didn’t want to share it with me. Just this week I found a box of fossils tucked away in his room from more recent years.

I remember the many fishing trips with our cousins Peter and Fay and our Grandad and how one time, when fishing at the canal, Stuart and Peter came face to face with our childhood nightmare – sinking sand!! Knee deep in mud, the boys fearing for their lives, my Grandad had shown no concern for their safety and simply screamed at them to “SAVE THE TACKLE!!”. They talked about that story for years and still laughed like schoolboys when they did.

I remember all of the long car journeys in my Dads ford escort and how we were so horrified at my Dads taste in music that we would cover our ears and tell him to turn it off as he preached about the talents of Bob Dylan and Neil Young. It turns out that all that brain washing paid off as both singers became his absolute favourites in later years .

As you all know music was a huge part of Stuarts life and he would talk for hours – and hours – about his favourite bands, songs, gigs and road tours. Just to really ruin his street cred, let it be known that his first ever album was Tiffany – I think we’re alone now, closely followed by Bros – Push It. I’m not sure he would ever live that one down.

Many of you will know Stuart as the calm, easy going person that he was but let it also be known there was a time, maybe aged 12 or 13 when he attempted to ring Childline because his wet look gel wasn’t playing ball before school one morning. Getting those hair spikes right was everything to him at that age.

Although we had our ups and downs growing up as all siblings do, on some level deep, deep down, I admired him enough to follow in his footsteps to the exact same uni, wear his cast off jumpers (complete with holes in the sleeves) and drunkenly declare how much I loved him on the Swan steps every Friday night after one too many pints of cider and black. Bizarrely his mates would always question who this drunken girl was as he’d never actually told them he had a sister. But still, I like to think on some level deep, deep, DEEP down, maybe he admired me too.

Stuart never wanted children but he was a proud Uncle to Lewis, Joseph, Eva, Megan and Harry. And although it may have taken him a while to realise that “Alright mate, what have you been up to?” wasn’t quite the right way to communicate with a new born, once he got in his stride he did a great job. In recent years living with my parents he was amazing with the kids be that patiently trying to teach them a few chords on the guitar, talking to Lewis about the latest Xbox games or running around the garden with the three youngest. They will miss him so much.

Stuart, life will never be the same without you but I promise to look after Mum and Dad and keep switching those chocolate wrappers each year.

We will love and miss you forever.

xxx