Every day we make choices. I never chose for my brother to get ill. He didn’t choose to have a brain tumour or to die at 28. But he chose to turn towards life even in his last days, laughing with family and friends. And I chose him. When we come into this world and choose to live, we risk not knowing how long that will be for and we have to make choices every day inside that in between bit.

I think the most painful part of my brother getting sick was watching all these choices he couldn’t make, things he could no longer do or choose. Watch choices be taken from him and made for him. Unsure which is the right or wrong choice. But we can only know what the right or wrong choice for us was after we’ve made a choice.

I suppose this gave my life a wake up call to all the choices I had that I wasn’t taking. All these things I wanted to do but wasn’t doing. All these things I kept choosing that weren’t serving. I know my brother had regrets, but that doesn’t mean choosing differently would have prevented the bad things happening. There are things we don’t choose but they’re delivered anyway. Death is something none of us are escaping.

I chose my brother and I would choose my brother again every time even if it meant only 26 and a half years of having him in my life. Even if it meant my heart breaking from watching his be broken. I wouldn’t choose this life for him, but I’d choose him.

Now I have to choose myself and continue to choose who and what feels right for me in my life, knowing the only way to get it wrong is to not choose anything at all. To not take a chance. To give in to hopelessness and stay stuck in nothingness for fear of getting it wrong. Keep choosing. Keep learning. Keep living. “Choose life” were words my brother used to say. Give Trainspotting a watch if you don’t get it.