Ray, my luv,
It's now been ten years since you left your body. I miss you so much. You know Adwoa, so I hope you've shown her around over there — I know our sister has. You guys have given me another way of looking at death. You've made dying something different for me, almost something to look forward to, knowing the people I have over there. I'm sure I'll be having fun when the time comes.
Grandma and Grandpa Ireland are there too. I'm sure you and Grandpa Charlie are watching football together. Do something about Chelsea, thank you. The boys need to be in the top five and hopefully win a treble next year. How cool would that be? Sometimes I feel like you might even help guide the ball into the net. And look after your boys too — I know they miss you.
I remember one day when we were all upset, I can't even remember why anymore… and you came downstairs wearing B's orange skirt just to make us laugh. And it worked. We laughed so hard that all our worries disappeared. You made choosing joy feel easy.
You also taught me that if I agreed to something, I should do it without complaining. You were the only brother who would tell me "no," and because of that I learned boundaries. Your yeses were always clean, given freely, without conditions beyond what was agreed. Thank you for that lesson.
Foundations
Life has truly been before and after you. You knocked me off my feet and shattered my whole foundation. I'm not saying that's good or bad … it's just the truth. I used to think if you built a solid foundation, you would always be okay. You've shown me that this is only true when that foundation is inside yourself. Only I can be my own foundation. Nothing outside of me can truly hold that role, because nothing outside is permanent.
Take my love for you … if it were based only on your physical presence, then I'd be lost. But it's also based on your energy, on the indescribable connection that lives within me. I still carry a part of you, just as I always did. And like when one sense is lost and another heightens, without your physical body our inner connection has grown stronger.
I've learned that it's okay to hold grief and joy at the same time.
I've learned that I can be happy with who I am today because of what happened to you and the others, while still wishing you were all here. I understand now that not everything has to make sense — and that's okay.
There will always be more I wish I had told you, yet I know I told you everything I could at the time. I've learned that every person in our lives is irreplaceable in ways we never truly understand until they leave their body. I know I can never be fully ready for death, no matter how much I prepare — and yet, somehow, I also can be.
What I'm not afraid of anymore
I live more comfortably now with the duality and complexity of life, knowing even comfort itself can be an illusion. Life will always find a way to humble you, often in the best possible way. And honestly, right now, I feel ready for it. I'm looking forward to life as it unfolds.
Recently, someone asked me what I fear, and I couldn't come up with an answer. Having lived through some of my worst fears and still being here … still smiling, watching life continue as normal … I realised something. The world doesn't pause. No announcement marks the moment your foundation shatters. Life simply goes on, because you are not the only one carrying loss.
And through that, I realised I have nothing to fear. Things will happen, and I will move forward, one way or another. I just get on with it. I am not the first, and certainly not the last.
So, bro, I've learned a lot in the ten years since you've been gone. Some might say it made me harder, but I think it has softened me too. Again, it's not good or bad — it just is.
Love you to the sun and back, my Ray of Sunshine.
See you in my dreams… until it all becomes a dream.
B. Xxxx
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If grief is moving in you and you'd like to be heard, the Harmonic Listening Space is here.
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