David was a remarkable man. He was highly intelligent, funny, always brought a smile to your face when you were down, and had a remarkable talent for clearing out a room with his farts (I blame the pickled eggs he use to love eating...). A true big brother and a friend.
But like everyone he wasn't without his problems; he had emotional issues all his life, he was finally diagnosed with Asperges Syndrome just two years before his death, which unfortunately led him to take a path of drugs and crime. He had battled so hard against his heroin addiction along with all his other inner demons, but sadly five years ago he lost his final battle.
It's always a horrible time of year to me. It stirs up lots of mixed emotions; it feels like it happened a lifetime ago, but it also feels like it happened only yesterday. In the week leading up this date I had got into a depressive state over the whole situation (partially one of the reasons why I started this blog) and had been comtemplating what to do on the day. My brother has no grave for me to visit as he was cremated and my mother can't bear to let go of his ashes, understandably, so I contemplated travelling to the place where he died; Margate in Kent. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, the pain is still too raw for me to confront on my own and I couldn't find anyone able to go with me. So I felt a sense of despair. What should I do? How can I honour his memory without becoming an emotional wreck?
Then I began to think about what David would want to do if he was still alive. When he wasn't on the drugs he was so full of life and knew how to have a good time, and I remembered asking him for advice on what I should do with my life when I was contemplating dropping out of sixth form college (high school for any international readers). He said "Well, do you really want to drop out?" I said "Well no not really, it's just that I'm struggling to keep up with both my coursework and a part time job, and I need the money to go out with my friends." His words after that point will always stay with me:
"If you don't want to drop out, then don't. If your job's affecting what you really want to do with your life then you'll be better off giving up your job. You're so clever and it would be such a waste on your talent if you let things such as money or your friends get in the way of your dreams. Don't ever give up on yourself, if you really want something you've got to go out there and get it!"
If he was still alive he wouldn't want me to waste my life doing something that made me miserable just because of his death, he would want me to go out there and live my life doing the things I enjoy; I concluded that was the best way to honour his memory. So I decided to go for a day out in London and spent most of the day in the British Museum looking at my favourite exhibitions. Mainly objects and jewellry from Celtic Britain, my favourite items being the Wandsworth Shield and the Waterloo Helmet:
The important thing is I did something I actually wanted to do, and I felt like if David was looking down on me he'd approve of me continuing my life rather then wasting away in the shadow of greif.
David was not a person that wanted to die, but his life and death was filled with much anguish and regret. I feel like now I can finally take comfort in the fact that my brother had a purposeful and meaningful life, despite it being so short, and that he is now finally in peace.
Amen.
(P.S. I managed to do a bit of doodling whilst on the train. Enjoy)
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