We are theirs, and they are ours...
Hello everyone, Ash here
Some of you will already know about the sad news I received last week, but if you don't and may be triggered by talk of death or drug use, it may be best to come back to this email when you are ready.
Sam and I created SMASH London so that talking about our mental health could be something that became normal, something we could be comfortable talking about and listening to. It's because of this I want to share my bad news with you, because I know my mental health will be different over the next few months and I want you all to know that I am taking the steps needed to nurture and protect myself through the grief. I have a wonderful network of family, friends and the SMASH London community around me to ensure I stay strong. I am also not ashamed to cry and take time when needed to allow myself to come to terms with the loss of my younger brother, Dean.
Last Thursday I received a call from my Mum that Dean had died from a drug overdose. In that moment, in those screams of anguish from my Mum, my family as I knew it changed, forever. I felt numb and the world around me became a haze. More than anything I needed to be with my Mum, I needed to feel her protective arms around me. I also knew that she needed that same strength from me.
It's because of Dean that I was made to look after my own mental health, and how I discovered mindfulness. I will write about this later in the year, when the shock and emotion isn't as raw but, for now, I wanted to share something I put on to Facebook last weekend. On my train journey back to London I wanted to write about the good memories, about the person I remember Dean being when I was a child.
The picture attached is how I will always remember Dean. My Mum dressed us like twins and when we were children we were always together.
Dean loved football, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Cotton Eye Joe and Power Rangers. He would always beg for us to play rounders with all the other kids, or head to the rope swing in the woods. My Dad would sneak him in to the betting shop on a Saturday morning while I waited outside and he would always think this was exciting, even though it happened every week! I would agonise over what to spend my £1 on in the cheap toy shop, but he always knew exactly what he wanted! Like me, he was obsessed with horror movies and these were our videos of choice at the video shop - this is what happens when you have older brothers and sisters! He used to get annoyed at me when we shared bunk beds, and I'd ask him in the summer what we would watch on TV on Christmas morning while we waited to open our presents (some things never change!). One year he was so upset because my Mum put up the decorations while we were at our Dad's house and he screamed for her to take them down and start again - she didn't, but she let him make some decorations to put up and gave him some chocolate (probably the strawberry Quality Street we were never normally allowed because they were her favourites!). He was always the first one at the ice cream van, but the last one out of bed.
That is how I prefer to remember my brother.
It's no secret that the past 10 years have been hard. Dean had suffered with mental health problems and was an alcoholic. We tried to help him as much as we could but, in the end, most of us had to distance ourselves for the sake of our own happiness and sanity. One of the hardest things I ever did was stepping away from him when I realised there was no longer anything I could do to help him be happy again. My amazing Mum was there for him until the end and I know he loved her more than anything. Where she gets her strength from I have no idea, she is my inspiration and it's her that I want everyone to channel their love to. She lost her Dad in her twenties, her twin sister (and soulmate) when she was 39, her Mum not long after and another sister just a few years ago. Now Dean is gone and I question why some people are made to suffer so much... I'm just thankful so many people around her love her and are there for her - she is one in a billion.
Dean, I wish I could have seen you be happier. I'm sorry nobody could help you. I'm sad that we were scared it would always end this way. I just hope mental health services get better in this country and people suffering like you are able to access more help in future.
Dad was your best friend and I know that his death in 2004 was probably the start of the shadow that followed you for the rest of your life. I can only imagine that when you saw him on Thursday your smile lit up the sky on what was mostly a black day. You were the last one to leave his grave the day he was buried, and the first to be reunited. Together again.
I'll make sure Reece, Lia, Shelby and Sapphire never forget their Daddy. I promise.
I'll always love you, little brother.
Dean Boorman
01/02/1985 - 27/02/2020
Our mental health will experience ups and downs as we journey through life. We are likely to encounter depression and addiction (within ourselves or in those close to us), anxiety, stress and feelings of unbearable sadness. It's so important that you take the steps needed to strengthen your mental health at every opportunity. I can't say enough how much my own practise has helped me these last few days. I'm not sure how I could have coped if I hadn't invested in my own well-being these past 6 years. This is something I will talk about further, in time.
For now, grief is still within me.
I'll keep myself busy, my natural coping mechanism.
I'll express gratitude every day for the love I have sent my way from all those who care about me, including you.
I'll be gentle with myself.
I'll cry, because I know that grief is the price we pay for love.
I'll be human.
'We talk about them, not because we're stuck or because we haven't moved on, but we talk about them because we are theirs, and they are ours, and no passage of time will ever change that' - Scribbles and Crumbs.
Thank you for allowing me this platform to write about Dean
Ash
