Being 46
Today I am 46 years old. I never want to wish time away, however I found the last few months of being 45 difficult and I could not be happier to be 46. My brother Andrew died when he was 45. My 45th birthday felt important and I celebrated it well. All the literature tells us that grieving is an individual process - that it is not an A to B. My experience of grieving for Andrew has taught me first hand that is true which is annoying because I quite like to be in control. He died of bi-ventricular cardiomyopathy (heart failure) in 2015, and the grieving process has been - and is - a ride. It has shown me the full power of my sub-conscious: horrible recurring nightmares, survivor guilt (he has children and grandchildren, I don't), a dramatically altered perception of risk, a huge sense of responsibility for my parents happiness and much more. I can often get overwhelmed by panic - which creates breathlessness and worries about my heart health - when I run which is really bl