Wednesday 6th January 2010
I am not a writer. In all honestly, I struggle a lot which I believe is due to my dyslexia (to the people that know me, yes I do have it!)
I have put off writing this for so long because it is going to break my heart in every way, shape and form. This blog is all about my thoughts and feelings since the day my big brother was involved in a car accident on Christmas Day 2009 which killed him, to how I have coped with it to this day. I have my tissues ready because I will cry a lot.
I was 16 years old, enjoying Christmas Day with my family. We was all sat on the sofa watching Eastenders. My younger sister (Ayesha) was trying to get hold my big brother (Imran) who had gone to Scotland with his friends for the day. I remember the phone went straight to answer machine and Ayesha at this point was really worried. I remember just shrugging it off. I must have really been into Eastenders.
We all went to bed and my big sister's (Amna) boyfriend now husband (Nadeem) stayed over that night.
Ayesha woke me up around 2am in the morning along with Amna, Nadeem and my younger brother (Farhaan) saying the police are knocking on the door. We was all in a daze as we had all woken up apart from Ayesha who hadn't yet gone to sleep. My parents had separated at this point and my mum was out with her friends.
Nadeem opened the door and the two police men immediately asked for all family members to be present as they had terrible news. I honestly thought this was part of my dream. The police men asked Amna to confirm Imran's car registration plate which she did and they informed the car was involved in a fatal accident where two out of three passengers in Imran's car had died and one man had survived however he had serious head injuries and is in an induced coma.
Before I go any further, I'll explain how the car accident happened. Imran was driving round the bend on the motorway and skidded on black ice which made the car go onto the embankment. The car then rolled back onto the motorway however on its roof. Another car then crashed into my brothers car which immediately killed two of the passengers.
They asked us loads of questions which made me think my brother had died that night such as if he was wearing Timberland boots. Anyone who knew Imran would know he would never ever own a pair of Timberlands. They advised the survivor was wearing Timberlands. At this point my heart dropped, I didn't even cry. I just froze and begged myself to wake up from this nightmare.
By this point, my mum and dad had come to the house and immediately they was arguing and blaming each other. The police advised us to travel to Preston immediately as they needed my parents to identify the survivor.
It was the most horrible car journey up to Preston. Ayesha was crying uncontrollably, Farhaan was sleepy - he was only 7 at the time so he didn't really understand what was going on. And me? Still begging myself to wake up.
We got to the hospital and I was crying so much, I didn't want to go in and see what was happening. We all got there and Amna was greeted by our family liaison officer called Alex. Amna has always been the mum figure and as she was the most stable out of us all, she dealt with the reporters and the police.
My mum was the one who went in to identify the man in the coma. My family was sitting in the waiting area, all in silence, hoping and praying that my brother had survived.
After what felt like a lifetime, my mum came back and said what we wanted to hear, my brother had survived. However my mum was crying so much. My mum has previously worked in hospitals looking after patients who had leukaemia. She knew since seeing my big brother in an induced coma that he wasn't going to survive.
We all went back home on Boxing Day morning. My dad got himself a hotel and stayed there in Preston to be with my brother. We requested for him to be back in Manchester so he would be closer to home, however due to how poorly and the amount of injuries he had, that wasn't possible.
The next 12 days was agony. My family met with my brothers friends who had died to offer condolences. I was trying to be strong, for my mum, my little brother and my sisters but it was tough.
My parents arranged a doctor they knew to come visit my brother, he gave us false hope and advised my brother would be fine and to start arranging things at home, such as a suitable bed for him etc. Which is what my mum was looking at doing.
It got to New Year's Day which is a day I'll never forget. Imran adored Farhaan, we all knew it was because he hated having three younger sisters and always wanted a little brother. When Farhaan was born, Imran was the happiest person alive. We took Farhaan to see Imran. It was the first time he opened his eyes, he saw Farhaan and started crying. By witnessing this, I cried so much and it's a moment I'll never forget.
Days went by and my brother still hadn't woken up and hadn't progressed.
It was Wednesday 6th January 2010. Three days before Imran's 22nd birthday. The worst day of my life.
It was the year we was badly snowed in, all schools was closed.
I was at home with Farhaan, I made us breakfast and we decided to watch Mean Girls - a film I've not watched since this day. My mum and sisters was on their way to my brothers friends funeral. They had literally just left to go and I felt as though I had just sat down.
I heard crying, shouting and banging on the front door. I opened it and Ayesha said the words I wish I could forget. 'Imran's died'. 'WHAT??!!' I screamed back. Amna was crying. I can't remember where my mum was at this point.
I stepped outside into the snow and literally collapsed. I don't remember much from there.
My big brother had died of a heart attack at the age of 21.
Someone, possibly a neighbour took me back into the house and I saw my mum, on the floor, punching it hard screaming 'not my Imran' I wish more than anything I could forget that, I can still hear the screams in my memory.
I ran upstairs to my room and starting punching, screaming, crying. I couldn't believe this had happened.
My uncle shortly came round and managed to dig my mums car out from the snow and drove us to Preston. It was the most silent journey ever. I was sat with Farhaan who again was so quiet and looked heartbroken. I do try talking to Farhaan about this now but he can't remember any of it.
We got to the hospital and my brother was put in another room where my dad was. My family stood around my brothers body and just cried so much. The thought of killing myself came there as I thought, there is no way on earth I am going to get through this, how the FUCK am I supposed to live now?
My mum actually did grab a wire when we was in that room and tried to strangle herself. Again a memory I wish I could forget. My dad and uncle ran up to her and took the wire of her and tried to help her calm down.
All of Nadeems family came, who are basically my own family. I don't know what we would have done without them which I remind them to this day.
I remember getting back home and walking down the street in a daze. There was so many people outside our house. Family, friends, neighbours, all there to offer their condolences. I really badly wanted to tell them to fuck off. I just wanted a few hours to myself to give me time process what had happened. Suppose I've got the rest of my life for that.
Imran's funeral was on Friday 8th January 2010, a day before his 22nd birthday. Again, I don't remember much, my brain has blocked out most of my memories as I spent the rest of my teenage years torturing myself about the car accident, thinking about how scared my brother must of been, what his last thoughts where and what if he had just stayed home with us on Christmas Day instead of going to Scotland? He would be alive today. I would have my big brother.
I had suffered from extreme depression, eating disorders and anxiety. Which in all honestly, still hasn't completely gone away today, almost 8 years later.
I am happy to say my eating disorder has finally gone away. Anyone who knows me is aware of how much I eat. It’s taken me a long time but I’m glad I can finally stomach eating 3 meals a day.
I do still class myself as suffering from depression and anxiety. Especially this time of year. I tend to block and push people away and try to get through December and January on my own which I know is the wrong thing to do and possibly makes my depression and anxiety worse.
I hate Christmas, Boxing Day, New Year's Day, all of January. I hate snow. I hate winter. I hate Mean Girls. I hate driving when it's icey/snowy.
It reminds me of everything I've been through.
I still get angry sometimes, at God if there is one. Why my brother at 21 years old? Why did I have to experience this trauma at the age of 16 which had impacted and heavily affected my adult life? The day my brother died I classed myself as an atheist. In my eyes, there is no God. If there is, he’s a cruel being.
I even hate getting close to people, it takes a lot for me to open up to people as I hate telling the story of my brother, which is a huge part of the person I am today.
I care about people so much, possibly more than normal. I am so scared people I care about will just die, which is probably why I hate leaving things on bad terms with people that mean a lot to me and I am that person that will do anything to make sure people stay in my life, no matter how they badly they treat me.
I also have the tendency to push people away, maybe because I am terrified they will mean a lot to me and then knowing they will die one day.
This year has been tough, since 2010 I haven't known anyone to die. This year I have known 4 people to die. One of them being my grandad. He was heartbroken when Imran died. He kept saying it should have been him. My grandad went to Mecca a month before my brothers accident and brought his coffin and outfit which had been bathed in holy water. Little did my grandad know he wouldn't have used that for him, but for his grandson.
I still worry about my mum, who is and no one can argue on this point, the strongest woman alive. She has been so strong for me, my sisters and my brother. Even today. I have my moments. I get upset, drive to my mums and curl up in her lap and cry that I miss Imran. She's always there for me, cuddling me and telling me he is proud of me, for how much I have achieved, how I have got back on my feet and continued with my life.
She suffers from bad depression still, I mean her first born child died before reaching the age of 22 and she still had to be strong for her other 4 children.
Amna is also strong. She's given birth to my three beautiful nephews who have been brought up knowing all about their uncle Imran. They have a picture of him in their bedroom which I took when I moved into my own place. Ayaan who's the eldest aged 5, shouted at me and told me he wants his Uncle Imran's picture back in his bedroom.
They still don't understand what's happened. Ayaan and Zaki (aged 3) still ask me why they haven't met Uncle Imran and why he doesn't come to play with them like me, Ayesha and Farhaan. We have to explain Uncle Imran is in heaven and is watching down on them. He would have been the best uncle ever, definitely a better Aunty than what I am!
Ayesha's doing well too, finally passed her driving test, looking to buy her own house with her partner and wanting to start a family soon.
Farhaan is in his last year of school, looking to go to college and eventually university.
Me? I'm just getting by on every day life. Working full time, enjoying being independent and saving up to buy my own house.
I did go to university and gained a degree in Counselling and Psychotherapy. My goal in to firstly travel starting end of next year then when I get back home, to have a job which is linked to my degree.
Over the years I’ve had therapy which has helped me in so many ways. I’ve learnt how to deal with my emotions and anger. Learnt breathing techniques simply in those moments where I get overwhelmed and feel like my chest is closing up on me. I’ve learned going for walks, exercise and eating healthy really are your best friends.
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