Friday 7th

Is it bad that I don't feel like I'm strong enough to deal with everything that went on?

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Sunday 2nd

Hey.

I saw a photo of our brothers yesterday. I guess they're both older than you were now huh..
They look like you.







Who ever thought I'd be giving advice to someone about grieving?
I guess because I didn't do it right I have some idea of what people should be doing to help themselves.

I always heard "there's no right or wrong way to grieve".
That's not correct. There is a wrong way.
To feel like everything is your fault.
To feel like you can't talk to anyone about what you're going through because it'll look like you're weak -and you've had it hammered into you all your life not to show any weakness.
To feel like you can't talk to anyone about what you're going through because they're dealing with stuff too.
To lock it up and never address it. It only comes up to stab you in the heart and then you push it down again.
To not demand the same support network everyone else has -you have a right to be helped and not go through it alone.

That is the wrong way to grieve.

I tell people to sit down and have long talks with the people in their life.
If there are people going through the same thing as them and treating them badly, I tell them that they don't mean it. They are trying to process it too. They need help too.

Do I believe my own words?
Well I certainly place hope in them.
I hope that our family treated me the way they did when you were sick and after you were gone because they were angry and upset about what happened to you.

They shouldn't have done it. At all, but especially because I was young, and I had done so much for you and our parents and brothers, and even our extended family at times.

While you were in the hospital the first time, I spent a lot of time alone -there was never anybody home.
Do you remember when you came home but you were still hooked up to the machine? I wasn't allowed to close the window between my room and yours so that I could hear if your tubes got blocked and the alarm went off.
I was, what, eleven?
But I guess I shouldn't complain, right? At least when you were home there were people in the house and meals were made. I didn't have to go to the supermarket by myself anymore.

When you were in hospital the second time I basically had a parent role. While trying to sort out the fact that you were sick again when you were totally clear of relapse. While trying to study. At sixteen.

Before you were taken off life support, and after you were gone. Staying tough so that our parents hearts wouldn't break any further and so our other brothers had something strong to hold onto.

In the process I became invisible. I was forgotten.
I was the punching bag in the basement.
Our family came and found me when they needed to get their feelings out.
None of them ever asked if I was ok. None of them ever sat down to talk with me -except I guess that one time when they told me I should stop taking my anti depressants and that what was going on was nothing to do with me and I should stop trying to get attention (attention = taking antidepressants apparently).
None of them ever apologised for the things they'd said to me.

I can't sit back and let someone end up like me.

I don't like that so many of the important lessons I've learned are because I've been treated the wrong way. I know the things not to do.

We need to teach people the right things to do.



Our brothers are getting older. I don't know what to do with that. You never did. You just disappeared.
I see you in them.
I don't know if I can ever say that to our mum. She probably sees you too.

It's too late to fix everything for me now. There's a piece I can never get back now. I can only try and put it all behind me.

But if I can help someone fix what's going on before it's too late... I'll relive it as many times as it takes so that other people, even complete strangers, don't have to.

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Monday 13th

Maybe it's because I'm sick, brother.. it usually takes longer than this for me to break down.

...

I'm still in CanTeen, brother. I go to the odd thing now and then.
When you had the septic shock, there was so much going on for them as well, and I was left behind by everybody.
I still feel angry and upset about that. For several years I don't think I went to anything.
I didn't feel like anyone cared. Like anyone wanted to care.
Did anyone know what had happened? How it all happened?
Surely if they did they would've made more of an effort, right?
But what if they did know and just didn't bother?
Did I just slip through the cracks?
One of those people again.

Anyway.
They have this programme called "REAL". It's supposed to help you "to be Rejuventated, feel Empowered, gain Awareness, and Let Go."
I thought it was maybe something I should go on.
I have one year left. I am trying to get my shit together.
..But I don't want to talk to anyone about you.
They don't know you. They don't know anything about you.
They don't know what happened. What it was like. All of it.

I tried a couple of times years ago, you know?
It's like a stab in the heart when you tell a professional your life and they say things that you make feel even worse about what happened.
Not things like it was your fault or whatever, but.. like they're in disbelief that these things could've happened to you. That you were burdened with these things when nobody should be -let alone at the age you were forced to carry things.

You getting sick wasn't right. You getting sick twice wasn't right. You going into septic shock after you had beaten the cancer again was not right. You getting sick in that hospital past the point of return was not right.
Me being left alone at the age of ten was not right. Nor was learning to cook noodles by myself on the stove because I was sick of sandwiches. Waking up to an empty house before school, and coming home to one. Biking across town to buy groceries. Dealing with my own illnesses.
Me being second mother at sixteen was not right. Having to drop my education to take care of our brothers. Being neglected again. Slipping through all of the cracks. Not getting any help.
Coming home to an empty house after a series of mysterious texts. The neighbour telling me that everybody had left and flown up north. Nobody telling me what was going on. Nobody trying to get me up there too.
Signing up to a new school by myself, at sixteen. Having to tell the principal that I don't know when my parents will be back, I don't know when they can sign the form.
...Having to carry the entire family. Having to look after my cousins like it wasn't all killing me inside.
.......getting that stupid group text on my birthday. Saying you were gone.
Abuse from my family. Being made to feel like it was my fault. Hearing that it should have been me.
It isn't right that certain people that should know exactly what happened still don't realise.. and still don't realise how it affected me.

It isn't right that people expect me to be over it by now.

I think I need to go to this thing. I am sick of crying for you all of the time, brother.
Me crying for you less does not mean I love you less. Does not mean I miss you less.
I can't keep having all of this sitting on my shoulders and weighing me down.
It's not you weighing me down, it's the experience. It was a really really shitty one.
Everyone had this massive support network supporting them except me.
There was only one person on my side, and unfortunately she alone wasn't enough to pull me out of the giant hole I found myself in, so I let go and fell further in.

Apart from the fact that I dont want to talk to people about you, where it's held is also where your funeral was, brother.
The psychologist I saw for my anxiety would probably tell me it's the perfect place to address my issues haha!
But I'm not sure I could deal with two days out there on my own without M and without my things. My comfort zone. It's a long way out. I wouldn't be able to just go back if I had a breakdown.

I don't know what to do, brother.
If our parents were still here I would ask them to take me in and bring me back at the start and end of each day.
I feel like I could cope with that.
But they're not. I don't know who else realises that it's important enough that it'd be worth doing.

I don't want to forget you, I never will, I just want to not feel the effects from what happened every day.

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Sunday 5th

I went to the market yesterday, brother.
My allergies are slowly but surely getting worse. Adding more things to the list every month it seems!

I almost cried before sleep the night before again. I like to try to not give in to it.
I had started thinking about the market, because of course I can't go and do anything without my mind picking it to pieces beforehand.. of course within a short time I arrived at the thought about you missing out on things like the market.

Would you have gone to the market? Or would you sleep in every Saturday and refuse to rise until noon?
You would be 18 now. And it'll be seven years in less than two months. When I turn another year older, it'll be another year. Seven years. It doesn't seem like it's been that long.

Would you have stayed here, or would you have moved back to our home town with our parents and brothers?
Would you be flatting? Would you be dating someone? Would you go to lots of parties?

I'm sure you'd have lots of people around you.

✿✿✿✿

Saturday 28th

Why do our relatives fight so much, brother?
It's like nothing is ever good enough for them now from other people.
Anyone outside their tiny little weird circle is automatically an attack on them or something for them to conquer or milk dry.

I don't understand it.

We all make some not so ideal choices, don't we?
I'm sure by now you would've made a few horrendous ones of your own.

A few of us kids are adults now, brother.
You would be too.
We have to make our own choices and live with the consequences, and you would too.

I would try to protect you from all of the bad things.. of course.
You would learn plenty of hard lessons yourself.

We tend to either not listen, or listen but have hope for a better outcome than someone else predicted.

Like when I was dating N. So many people told me not to do it. That it was a bad idea.
But I didn't listen, did I?
Haha, nope.
And of course it did turn out so differently than I thought it would.
But you know what? I learned so much from that experience.
I thought I had my standards for how I should be treated, but when you love someone, all of that gets clouded, or put aside for now -it won't always be like that will it? That's what we all think.
But if it's not going to change for the better, we need to learn that.

In a perfect world we all just be told "don't do this! bad idea!" and we wouldn't, we'd instantly magically understand the full repercussions.
But we don't live in a perfect world. We need things to be put up on a big billboard right in front of our face every day for the message to sink in sometimes.
We can't cover our house in post its that say "he's an asshole!"
Well.. we could.. but we probably shouldn't.

Why do people act like they have never made mistakes, brother?
I'm sure if you were still here you would have so much compassion, empathy and understanding to share with other people.
I'm sure that if you were still here you would try and help where you could, instead of washing your hands of someone and acting like you are worlds above them.

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Tuesday 24th

Thinking about you again today, brother.
And last night too.

I cried before I went to sleep last night. Thinking of you.

I still do not sleep well. My mind still races all the time. The doctors can't seem to find a way to fix either problem.

It's christmas, you know?

I was thinking about going to spend time with M's family tomorrow.
Our mum and father are still JW. The boys are too. It often hurts that I can't do the things with them that everybody else does.
Anyway. I was thinking about it all and I wondered if you would be JW too.
I'm not. But you all knew I never was interested in it.
Our brothers have followed so blindly. They have some ..beliefs that I really don't agree with -and I taught you all better than to be intolerant like that.
I'm sure you would accept everyone without any narrow minded views.

Would you "celebrate" christmas?

It was not long before my mind took me back to when you were alive.
Do you remember getting christmas packs from Child Cancer? Getting presents that Gran had sent down to us? We'd open them up before christmas day or after because of course we weren't allowed to on the day.

Did you know the christmas before you got sick was the last time she ever sent me anything?
Do you remember your last christmas? She sent a card with some vouchers and such to our mum and father, and she sent you boys a card with some money and such in it. Not even a mention of me anywhere.

Did you know that while you were up in Starship, I was looking after the house alone?
I was 16.
You know how I came to visit you? That was the first time anyone had bothered to talk to me about getting me up to see you. I think I got a text from mum saying that the doctors said that I needed to go up there now and that I'd be getting a call from Child Cancer.

I was told that I'd have the half of the row I was sitting in left clear of other passengers.
What ended up happening was an old asian guy ended up sitting next to me, picking his nose and trying to lean over me to look out the window the whole time.
It turns out he wasn't even supposed to be in that seat. Maybe if I'd said something I wouldn't have had to concentrate on looking out the window so that nobody would see me cry.

You know, I think it was the first day I was there.. there was a meeting.
Between us and the doctors.
You know it wasn't good news.
As the meeting went on, everybody was crying. Our aunts and uncle, Gran, mum and our father.
When the doctors got to the part where they had to tell us they were only going to give you about a week to improve before there would be no point on keeping you on life support, even they were crying too.

I wasn't. I couldn't.
I wanted to break down so much. Why was it happening, brother?! You had beat cancer. Twice.
And now this stupid little thing was killing you.
Everyone was looking at me. Waiting for my reaction.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to run.
I didn't know where, I didn't even know the city I was in. I just wanted to get out of there and escape. Escape reality. Escape from all of it.

But I couldn't.
I had to be "strong", brother.
For you. For them. I also had to look after our brothers and cousins at the same time.
Me keeping it together was keeping everybody else from entirely melting down.
They needed someone to lean on. And none of them could be it. The burden was too heavy for them.

It was far too heavy for me too, but I thought at the time I could handle it. I know better now.

When we came out of the meeting, I said probably one of the most stupid things ever, brother -to try and lighten the mood a bit.
But I still didn't deserve the response I got from our aunt.

I spent my 17th birthday alone, with a drink. Thinking about the Monday deadline that was drawing closer every day. Thinking about you. I didn't want to go and be with my friends. I just wanted everything to be better.

And then, that night, I got the text.
I got a group text from our mother saying that you'd been taken off life support and you were gone.
I still hold that against her.

Do you remember how the "family" all came down after you were brought back?
I had to sleep on the floor in our brother's bedroom.
Everybody seemed so determined to take their grief out on me.
I still wonder how the hell I got through that.
I was trying to come to terms with how you weren't here anymore... and how you were here, in your casket in the living room. Like it was no big deal.

I felt you everywhere at home while you were there. I swear I could hear you screaming at our parents because they couldn't hear you. You asking me why I wouldn't tell them that you were there.
I'm sorry. I wanted to. I couldn't. I hope you understand why now.

I will never forget the day when things got worse -I didn't think things could get worse.
Everybody had been pushing me down all day. Our uncle was the only one who looked uncomfortable with what was going on, but he didn't say anything.
I had already been diagnosed with depression around the time you got sick again. Did you know? Probably not I guess.

I went to take my meds that day. Usually I hid it, but I was on the verge of a meltdown so I thought screw it. Maybe if they know that I have to take these, they'd all ease off a bit.

Haha. Nope. More wishful thinking on my part wasn't it, brother?

You know, I went to sort out my things afterwards -I had to because Gran had gone and taken everything I needed out of our brother's bedroom and put it in the garage. Even though I had told her not to touch it. That what was there was all the clothes and medicine and things that I needed.
I had to go through a house full of our relatives in a dressing gown and a towel and go out to the garage just to get dressed.

Anyway. I was organising my things and our Gran and aunt came in.
I thought they were going to apologise for their behaviour. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Did you know that they sat me down on our brother's bed and told me that I shouldn't be taking those pills?
I think back on it now and wonder why on earth you would say that to someone who is obviously drowning in life. Did they want me to disappear? I don't know.
They told me that I needed to stop attention seeking. That this whole thing wasn't about me. It was about them and our brothers and our parents.
If you had been there I am sure you would've told them that I mattered too.

But I guess I didn't matter. What I was going through didn't matter. And to most people it still doesn't.

I don't blame you for any of it, brother.
It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault you got sick. It wasn't your fault that the people that were supposed to help me didn't. It wasn't your fault that our relatives pushed me out into the cold and beat me down. Even after all I'd done for them and you over the years.

I hope you never thought it was you fault. It never was. It still isn't. None of it was your fault. I hope you know that.

I just wish that you were here to help me through it all. To stand up for me. To tell me that I matter.
To tell me about girls and parties and school.

I need you, brother.
I need you to be here.
I need you to help me get better this time.

But you're not.

That's why I cry at night.

✿✿

Sunday 22nd

Dear brother..
Things are getting hard again.
Every time I think about you I cry.
I don't even necessarily think about what happened to you any of those times. I'm just upset that you're not here.

Another year has passed, brother. I am trying so hard to be a better person. I never wanted to let you or our other brothers down.
I was supposed to be the best big sister ever.
Sorry.

So many people graduated highschool this year, brother.... but you didn't.
You should've. And I would've done everything I could to be there. You were so smart, you probably would've done way better than me!
..Definitely way better than how I ended up doing.

I've got one year left in CanTeen. I've been thinking about what I want to get out of it.
I wonder what you would do. I think you'd go to so many of the events. I am sure you would love it.
So many of your friends from Child Cancer are in CanTeen now.
I feel old!

I am supposed to go and get "professional help" for the aftermath of the situations...that we were all involved in.
You were the one that was sick... and then I got sick in a different way... I'm still not better.

When I turn another year older, it'll be seven years since you left me, brother.
Seven years, and I'm still crying for you. Still wishing I had done something differently, so that I could save you.

I guess you already know, but there was a man who was visiting his wife one day..
He saw that you didn't have a headstone. Our parents put a marker up, but they couldn't afford a headstone yet.
Anyway. This man tracked them down, did you know that? He told them he wanted to pay for a headstone for you. Any design they wanted.
I saw the photo on faceook. It looks nice.

Sorry I haven't been to visit. I can't do it.
I love you, but I can't do it.
I'll always love you but I can't stand over you like that. I won't.

You're not supposed to be there. You're supposed to be here.

I can't live my life for you, brother. I'm not where I had planned to be.
Things.. everything broke me.
You were taken from me and that broke me. It broke my heart. It broke my spirit. It broke my mind.
It all shattered me into a million tiny pieces and I had to learn to pick each one up and try and put them back together.
I still haven't found all of them.

But I'm trying, brother. I am trying to get better. I am trying to learn more. I am trying to achieve more.
I will be the best big sister I can for you and our brothers.

✿