22 tcf.org.uk COMPASSION | SIBLING GRIEF - FEATURE: THE TIES THAT BIND When my three brothers and I were growing up and trouble hit the fan, Mum would often say, in a bid to keep her brood calm, ‘Well, at least we are all still here.’ She reminded me of this affectionate saying only very recently. I can still recall how I felt as a child when she said those words - a collective sigh of relief would ripple across our family unit and if I close my eyes tight enough as I type these words, I can still feel the tsunami of endorphins that quickly engulfed and soothed my young, innocent heart. I knew that in that moment - in the simplest of terms - that if we were all together, everything would be OK – nothing else mattered. It was us against the world. Until the day came when we weren’t all here anymore – and things were definitely not OK. The day my brother, Louis Sydney Wilson died – 17th February 2019. The day when the six of us became five. When four siblings became three. The day when everything changed, and the earth seemed to flip on its axis. Syd - as he was affectionately known from around the age of seven - was my little brother, four years my junior. He was the last person in my family that anyone would ever have expected to receive a cancer diagnosis, let alone a terminal one. Growing up he was the sensible one of the four of us. He rarely drank alcohol, never smoked, or took drugs, recreationally or otherwise, never caused my parents sleepless nights like the rest of us and was always, well… the golden child – you know the one - most families have one. He was the happy-go-lucky kid, funny, and intelligent – not that he would ever think that about himself. And even if he did, he would never say it aloud. Growing up he toed the line in all aspects of his life – he was never promiscuous, rarely answered back and was a ‘good boy.’ He would later comment as he was nearing the end of his life that he felt this was half the reason he ended up sick. For whatever reason he never felt he could fully express himself and became trapped in what I refer to in my book Losing You, Finding Me, as the ‘invisible cage’. His life became a product of what he thought others expected of him rather than being true to himself. A trap many of us fall into and struggle to get out of. When he died, the loss felt unbearable. It was as if I was missing a limb. I struggled to make sense of anything for the first twelve months. I experienced what felt like a never-ending black hole of grief that I didn’t think I could ever The ties that bind; grieving the loss of a sibling by Kay Backhouse Kay with her siblings
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