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I ALWAYS THOUGHT that Johnny Logan’s song went “What’s another year for someone who’s lost everything?” But I’ve just discovered, after careful listening, that it continues “that they own”.
Owning a person, a way of life, a sense of being in the world, doesn’t ring true for me. However, the song’s sentiment certainly resonates with me this New Year.
World Remembrance Day
The last time I wrote a reflection was seventy five days after the tragic death of my beautiful sister Donna Fox. That was on World Remembrance Day for Road Traffic Victims in November 2016.
To say it only feels like yesterday might surprise some people and annoy others (who think one should just be quiet about these things). But in many ways it feels like quite a short time ago.
Time has been a mystery to me since I got that life changing news that my little sister, who I was just after texting and was to meet the next day for lunch, had been killed while cycling to her place of work in Dublin city. That tomorrow and that lunch never came.
Time trundles on
But time doesn’t stand still. It trundles on. Finding myself entering the second calendar year that Donna is not in, is hard to believe. There is deep pain that her voice or laughter will never echo about in 2018.
The flip side is that I have survived despite that seeming impossible on some of the bleakest of bleak days. While every day brings me further away from Donna, it is also carving a new path, a new way of having Donna in my life and heart.
I’m not talking about the various events of last year: the different cycling and political endeavours I support, like increased funding for road safety campaigns and the Minimum Distance Passing Bill that I hope will become law.
Instead my growing self-awareness, learned through the last year’s torment, means that I have chosen to open up about my more personal journey. The journey that has been bumpy and at times horrendously lonely.
The collapse was yet to come
In the final months of 2016 I was still in a haze. The shock had not really thawed. I did things, was productive in my own way, but the collapse was yet to come.
Like most blokes I turned to the pub and booze. Unlike most blokes, I had been in early recovery when Donna was killed. Indeed, Donna had driven me home from rehab in Cahir just days before the collision stole her from us. I did not drink for months after and I am hugely grateful for that.
2017 saw the battle to cope with traumatic shock, grief and being forced to face deep inner demons about my sexuality. Unlike my sister, who was at peace and in a loving relationship with her girlfriend, I have struggled with being gay my whole life. Internalised homophobia eat your heart out.
Alcohol came back. My faithful friend. I felt totally disconnected and was worn out, and rightly or wrongly, I felt very isolated too. At least drinking got me out of a rut. I wasn’t sleeping all the time when I started drinking again. But of course I was on the road to nowhere good.
Grief stricken, deeply depressed and at a crossroads in every area of my life is how I spent 2017.
A place of hope
However, I am sharing these thoughts from a place of deep and joyful hope. I can laugh at myself, though I’m not at the out loud laughing at myself stage yet.
Laugh at how I have to realise that I am normal and abnormal. Abnormal is how I felt for being gay. I won’t bore you with the lengths I’ve gone to at times to change this. I wanted to be straight, to be “normal”. I hid it well but it always was there.
When Donna died it was very public, everything was out there. It taught me so much about the genuine kindness, affection and sheer goodness that can come from complete strangers.
The binges kept happening, the real abnormality comes via alcohol for me. That has been difficult to finally see. The booze turns me, changes me. Not every time but most.
Turning on one of the people I love most in the world was the final nail in the coffin for alcohol and me. Here I am so bloody lucky and blessed to be alive. I have so much to live for, not least to honour my sister and do whatever I can to encourage road safety.
It is still very early days, but this public reflection is helping me with my acceptance. Acceptance that I am normal as a gay person. Acceptance that I am anything but normal as a drunk. That I don’t have to hide from myself any longer.
A fitting tribute
Donna was such a huge guide to me this past year. She may not be physically present now, but her voice and kindness are forever in my heart. She gave me the energy, no matter how embarrassed, deflated, and horrified I was after each binge, to get back up again.
I am ringing in this New Year sober and gay. Both my real, natural and most sincere states. Maybe it’s just as fitting a tribute to Donna to finally be myself.
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That’s a very moving and emotionally true article. It is a tribute of love to a person who seems to have been loving, warm and supportive. The price of great love can be great loss, as much with a sibling as with anyone else.
I am told that the emotional pain never lessens, the anguish and loss will always be there, but the ability to adjust and to cope gets stronger.
I have a feeling that your sister was lucky to have you as a brother and you were lucky to have her as a sister.
Your article is a fitting testament to love and to want truly matters. Try to think of the good times and the shared laughter.
Well said neil
Very brave of you to write thanks for sharing.
Very tough to write i would imagine thanks for sharing
Lost a much loved brother suddenly that year too. It takes so long to process it. I still haven’t fully. Thanks for sharing. I think a siblings death makes us question our place
In the world as they are supposedly be our life partners. From how you described her she’d be very proud of where you are now.
Well done on all fronts Neil.
Hi Neil
Very well written piece, I admire your honesty and frankness to both topics;grief and homosexuality. I myself am a mother of 5 children,2 of which have died tragically. I did try and do something that would honour their lives lost,but i think I’m more important just being here for my children and grandchildren. No pill,drink,chatting to a councillor can bring them back.nothing. but what I will do is everything in my power to make their lives happy and healthy. Just started from within to bring about change in their lives
Although Donna seems to be an amazing sister you haven’t done too bad at been an amazing brother yourself. What a beautiful piece of writing. I’ve read an article you wrote shortly after she passed and again one recently for road safety. Strange how I seem to always fall across them. I hope life gets easier for you, and you find a partner that can help make you strong and you can live your life’s remembering Donna as the brilliant sister she was.
Proud of you Neil. Amazing article x
Amazing article neil well said and put, however very emotional. Wish you peace and sucess. William.
Amazing article Neil well done x
Wow! I shed a few tears reading that!! Thanks for sharing, it was a very inspiring read. Onwards & upwards for you now!! :)
Your sister is very proud of you in heaven I’d say ? Be strong for both of you .
Great post, Neil. Glad you’re realising you’re completely normal and have no right to be ashamed of how you were born or your desires. Shame is a betrayal of yourself. Life is too short, and you deserve too much respect.
Thanks for sharing your story. I’ll be thinking of it this morning and being more patient driving past cyclists.
Loved your article neil it resonated with me. Having lost a brother suddenly myself who I adored, it is like a tsunami of grief. I couldn’t understand how the world kept turning, people carried on with their daily lives and yet my brother was gone…i wanted to scream out what were they all doing? Didn’t they know the most important person in the world to me had died? You never get over it but you learn to live with it because you simply have no choice.
@Alison Maguire: you have described exactly how I felt when I lost my brother some yrs back. As we left the hospital the sun was shining.8.30am I saw ppl going to work, I wanted to shout stop, did they not know what just happened. Felt lost. Also lost my beloved mam in car accident 4 yrs later. It’s a hard road, it’s the same life but very different. Life is short. I male the most of mine now. Best wishes to you Alison and also to you Neil x
I am so touched by the comments here. Will reply to each over the weekend.
What a lovely article. I am sure your sister would be incredibly proud of how far you have come. Grief is a long and at most times a lonely path. I hope you find your feet in life.
I have always stumbled across your stories and always an emotional read. Best of luck for the future x
I lost my big sister 4 yrs ago to a short illness. With my parents home in Ireland it fell to me to step in for her care. The day I had to take her off life support is torture still in my memories. Shortly after my dad died of Parkinson’s although I think it was more grief. I brought my Mammy over to Canada to live with me. This past April my dear Mammy passed from Alzheimer’s. 4 years all my family gone. I know the grief you speak of. I’m scared for when the daze of these past years wears off and all that’s left is the reality of it. Thank you for a beautiful article
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