Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about reviving this old blog, it had always been such a cathartic process, putting my thoughts and scrambled emotions into words. Then last Friday, 27th August, my brother was killed unexpectedly and shockingly in a car accident. And well…. here I am using my blog to process my stages of grief.

Denial

Denial starting the minute I heard the news. My Dad had phoned my husband, to tell him on Saturday morning, shortly after they had found out. I saw my husbands face as he spoke to my dad and I knew something was wrong, but I naively assumed my brother, the man that was really still just a naughty boy, had gotten up to some mischief and my dad was phoning to tell us so we could all be angry with him.

How wrong was I.

Since hearing those words: “You need to go to Cape Town, your brother is dead, he was killed in a car accident” my brain has been trapped in a loop.

My brother is dead

My brother is dead

My brother is dead

Impossible! Impossible! Impossible!

I feel like I’m going mad with this loop playing over and over again. My mind cannot accept, cannot even comprehend that he can be here one minute, being a giant pain in the ass with his loud voice, his annoying Whatsapp messages about conspiracy theories, and his annoying habits, that seem stupid, insignificant, and really not so annoying at all anymore.

We went to the site of the accident this morning to lay some flowers and as I looked at the black scrapes along the pavement and the remnants of scrap plastic and mental, ripped off his car as he hit the bus head-on, my mind is still screaming impossible! Impossible! Impossible! How can he here,Β  loud and vibrant and obnoxious one minute, and in one giant bang, he just vanishes. He is just gone.

Next To Denial Is Extreme Regret

We are moving back to Cape Town in December and one of the things I had been looking forward to was having time with him to heal our complicated relationship. The irony is that on Friday evening as I ate supper with my husband I had said to him that while I was so excited for our move back to Cape Town after 20 years, a part of me was fearful, I was afraid that something would happen to my family before I had a chance to get there. At the time, when I had unknowingly said that my brother was already dead.

IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOSSIBLE!

I want the next step to start now, I want the anger phase to come because being angrier would be easier than being trapped in this perpetual state of denial and bewilderment.

Even as I write these words, my brain refuses to believe.

IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOSSIBLE!

R.I.P My brother, Colin Victor Nield (01/08/1974 – 27-08/2021)