F*ck, My Brother Had M.D

Chapter One

Chapter One - The Current Reckoning

The third of May, twenty-twenty-three. Seventeen years on since Marc's passing. It is inevitably an emotional day, usually, I spend this date by myself doing nothing different to that of a normal day but occasionally thoughts come into my mind and they lead to other thoughts until the emotion overcomes me and tears trickle down my cheek. This year was no different, I spent my morning sat at the dining table on the lower floor of our home, writing the usual nonsensical rambling, I knew my dad was alone and he's a peculiar individual, very hard to gauge how he's feeling. In all honesty, he may not have even realised the date, he's so laid back but just in case he did I decided to take our dog, Maggie, over to him to keep him company. He only really shows any emotion when he sees our Miniature Labradoodle and it gave me a day to myself. I headed his way - about a 25-minute drive from our home in Durham to his place in Felling, Gateshead where I grew up - and pulled up to find his car wasn't there. Immediately I thought 'Oh, he must be at Heworth burn' (Where Marc's ashes were laid to rest). He wasn't, but me and the dog had a little stroll around what are very inviting, pleasant surroundings, lovely spring settings, luscious greens, a quietly trickling stream running through the outer part and bushes and trees securing the graveyard from surrounding houses. Usually, a few other mourners heading to their loved one's grave are all you will see. We set back off to Dad's which is no more than five minutes in the car and he stood in his garden enjoying the warm early afternoon. I didn't mention the date, and nor did he. Perhaps it's not that he didn't know the date but that he just deals with things in a similar manner to me. Nevertheless, he was more than happy to take Maggie for the day.

I spent my afternoon doing a couple of loads of laundry, a few dishes and then sat in the study switching from numerous subscription platforms. I've never been one to believe people when they say certain things happen which remind them of a lost one and thus they convince themselves that it was a message sent or whatever. But it has happened to me, regarding Marc: I came across a movie with a few actors I recognised; Paul Rudd, Selena Gomez and Craig Roberts, about ten minutes in I realised it revolved around Paul Rudd looking after Craig Roberts, who was an English teen with Duchenne. I was immediately hooked.

Sarcastic, British humour was very present in the movie - The Fundamentals Of Caring. It was very fitting for what was running through my mind. It could be a British way of dealing with their ailments. Marc was very dry in his comedy, mind at the age I was it came across as annoying and just his way of pissing me off. I look back now and appreciate it, but he was still just trying to piss me off.

Tears inevitably followed. A mix of happiness at some old memories and utter sadness which stem from missing my older brother and being denied an adult relationship and potentially a best friend. Whenever the tears come, I always refer back to the last thing Marc said to me. "You can use the computer tonight." The family computer was in Marc's downstairs bedroom and most nights I would be on it. He constantly told me to get out because he, of course, didn't want his younger brother in his bedroom - I get that now - but at the time it was constant screaming at each other. For him to say I could use it was unusual, I must have been doing other things because I never pulled him up on the offer. Later in the evening, Mum told me to do a chore, maybe the dishes or take the bin out, I can't quite remember then say goodnight to Marc and go to bed. I snuck away from the chore and therefore didn't say goodnight to him. I never got the chance to say goodnight to him again. Marc died that night. I have convinced myself that Marc knew he was done that night, and that's why he wanted me on the computer, to spend a last few moments with his little brother. I denied him that opportunity.

It is, of course, a strange day. The difficulty goes beyond the emotions of losing Marc. It can never be understood the emotion one feels when losing their son, after all, it isn't something most people go through and as we have realised time is not always the great healer. My mother has never healed, perhaps because she has never allowed herself to properly grieve. Almost immediately she turned to alcohol, from the age of 15 I found a relentless number of empty vodka bottles in a plethora of places. Behind her bed, under the sink, at the back of the pantry and even in her handbag I would find small bottles of the cheapest bottles of booze the supermarket would sell. Whenever dates like the third of May, Marc's birthday or Christmas would come around there would be the fear that I would find my mother drunk, stumbling and mumbling. Over time this would escalate to whenever she wasn't working. Family Sunday lunch became unbearable, often excuses would be used to avoid going, by myself and my sister.

I cannot comprehend what my mother has been going through, but the annoyance is that there is help out there that she refuses to seek. She is also not helped by other people, her mother - my grandmother - refuses to acknowledge this and whenever they are together a drink is immediately put in my mum's hand. My grandmother went through difficulties herself, losing both her husband and son at a young age, she spiralled and ended up in mental hospitals. She somewhat got through this, but the ignorance she shows in not helping her daughter infuriates me.

Perhaps this can explain why we, as a family, don't talk too much about this. The worry that it may upset our mother and lead to a bottle being cracked open. This surely shouldn't be a reason, this shouldn't be used as an excuse to talk about difficult matters. I know people who look at our family and can't understand it. The whole issue can't be placed solely on my mother, neither me, my sister nor my father are the types to pour out our emotions. I've only ever seen my dad cry on maybe two occasions and my sister seems to hide issues very well.

I, on the other hand, use humour to deal with a lot of things. Perhaps similar to Marc. "At least he didn't have Diabetes" I would say about Marc on the rare occasions he's brought up, in reference to both me and Rachel - my sister - having Type One Diabetes. I often remark on how worrying it is being a male in this family after the loss of my brother, uncle and grandfather to somewhat tragic incidents. This isn't always appreciated though. My niece recently got diagnosed with Autism, my response was "Well she's definitely a part of this family, we're all a bit fucked up".

It's nice to think maybe I have a similar sense of humour to Marc, a similar way of dealing with difficulty. As well as being a part of the Diabetic community, I'm also a 21st-century depressive, and will never hide the fact I'm on antidepressants. Referring back to my mum, I told her and she was confused by this. "Why?'' She often asks me sternly. Because I'm depressed and I need them. Maybe it is her generation but she questions whether I need them, whether I'm 'that' upset. I often say to her it's better to be proactive than reactive, this is something she hasn't yet understood. She still prefers to drink than take a little tablet daily.

Growing up I knew Marc was 'different' but he was my brother and that was that. I recently spoke to a good old friend who knew Marc, he would see him very often coming to our home. The conversation got on about my delayed ways of dealing with the grief and I spoke of how my family was never one for discussing emotions. He said something that played with my mind. He said he knew something was wrong with Marc but didn't really know what as I never mentioned it. I never mentioned it because he was Marc, my brother. He wasn't Marc my knackered brother, he was just my brother. But on the other hand, I should have been open about talking about it a bit more. Perhaps that's just because it is who I am; I'm more likely to answer questions about a situation than bring up something. It was important hearing this though, knowing I should have better-relayed facts to people makes total sense.