The one phone call I hope I never receive is one telling me that something has happened top my brother. That he’s died. I’ve been there before. I got a phone call telling me my Dad was in ICU, that he’d had another stroke, and that I should probably get home as soon as possible, because we all knew he probably wasn’t going to make it. Even though it was a phone call I had been expecting all the time I’d been away at university, it was still hard to deal with when it actually happened.
I know that one day I’ll get that phone call about my grandparents, about my Mum. But that’s kind of what we expect in life isn’t it? We know that all being well, we will outlive our parents. Whereas my brother? He’s younger than me, and I never want anything to happen to him. At the same time part of me hopes that one day I will get that phone call, maybe one day when we’re in our 80’s or 90’s. Just because I wouldn’t want to leave him behind.