Simon Blake

This time of year I always get tense about Andrew being dead. I use the word tense deliberately even though it may be an odd word to use, but it describes how my mind feels. Since Andrew died I have had a recurring nightmare. In it I always have the chance to save him and I choose not to, or wasn't able to - it varies. Sometimes I couldn't and sometimes I wouldn't. Either way I wake up breathless, angry and upset.  Initially this happened every night, then three or four times a week and now only occasionally around his birthday and the anniversary of his death on 7th July. About two weeks ago I started having the same dream and the same feelings again.  Now familiar with the pattern of the grief I have taken to comforting myself with happy memories. Of course I wish Andrew was still alive, but the cold brutal fact is he isn't, and I want to be - and am - grateful for the fun times we had.  I am writing these for two reasons - who knows how long I will re...

5 years ago I was on my annual summer jollies in Cornwall. My brother Andrew was in hospital. He had on several occasions been in hospital over the previous few years with water retention connected to his pacemaker. I wasn't thinking anything about it as I went in. The sun was shining. A quick visit, some Lucozade, a few magazines and then off to the beach. This time was however different, the nurse with his permission told me that he may need a heart transplant. I still shudder remembering that moment and realise how fragile and uncertain everything really is. As I have written previously on this blog everything accelerated quickly over the next few days. Two weeks later we sat together as a family while the doctors turned off the machines. The first few days and weeks felt like they went on a lifetime, so it is hard to believe that was 1,811 days ago. I don't have any words to describe how much I miss what we had or what I hoped we would have together for another 20, 30...