Hannah

I’ll never forget the day where my heart fell from my chest,
It was the moment that I said goodbye and I laid your body to rest.
I’ll never take this life for granted; I’m living it for two.
And since you’re always the one who sang the songs
I’ll be singing this one for you.

My bro, Ollie. We had a hell of alot of songs; songs that reminded us of good times, songs I remember him singing doing his funny dancing to, songs that we said we wanted played at our funerals. When he died, it felt like every song we had ever listened too or put on a mixtape for each other  was played in shops, came on the radio, would pop up on my iTunes shuffle. I took this as him speaking to me from the beyond, wherever. Comforting me. It felt like every band I loved released a new album with songs filled with how I felt about losing my little bro, and how hard it was.

I drank. I drank a lot. Not just in a ‘let’s have a few pints down the pub and a bit of a cry’ way. I drank every day and every night, obnoxiously. I gave up and didn’t want to do anything with my life. I felt so strongly that ‘well if he isn’t alive, then there’s no point’. I felt like there was nothing to live for. I drank to be the happy, fun, light girl I used to be. I drank till I was sick, and I often caused a scene on a night out. I used to drag my friends up to his grave to sit and ball, and shriek. My friends, my beautiful amazing strong-as-oxen friends used to sit there awkwardly letting me do it. But it never helped, and I used to hate myself and feel like such an inept drama queen that I couldn’t control my emotions and pain. I had dropped out of Uni, moved back home and was isolating myself from everything and every opportunity. Days were spent crying and feeling sorry for myself. I hated myself so much and tried at every opportunity to hurt myself with risky business, excessive drinking, chain smoking and drugs.

I was numb, and raw with pain.

When the band Four Year Strong released a new album, my best pal burned me a copy and I would stick it on in the car to listen to. I was so taken aback that a track on there called ‘One Step at a Time’ described my life exactly, every line resonated so deeply with me.

The song is about the singer, and his brother who died – and how he would ‘always look up to him’. Everyone, especially my family, had been telling me over and over again that Ollie wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad, but I’m the sort of person who you can tell something to ’till you’re blue in the face but I won’t accept it until I come to that conclusion myself. I don’t like getting help from anyone; I don’t like burdening people with my ‘shit’. Listening to this song was like a revelation, a total ‘eureka!’ moment. That line “since you were always the one who sang the songs, I’ll be singing this one for you” just encapsulated what I knew I needed to do in the 4 seconds it takes to sing it. It was a jolt back to reality. I felt like, “okay this is going to be hard, but I’m going to get my life back on track for Olly – for his memory and for myself.”

I started to think about what I enjoyed in life. Music was my saviour, and live music and watching gigs made me feel infinite. I started to feel like I wanted to start putting on gigs again, and start promoting. I applied to do an events management degree on a whim and got onto the course. I set my promo company back up and ran a series of successful gigs and club nights. I moved to the city, and am slowly piecing together a life that I can lead that isn’t hanging by a thread of mental soundness. I started to really enjoy life and savour it again. I want to be the sort of person who can seize every opportunity and appreciate what I do have. Whenever I feel terrible and emotional I immediately turn to music, and I listen to ‘One Step at a Time’ often when I want to feel close to my brother. In the years after he died, really I just needed to come to my senses, and I know listening to that song wouldn’t have immediately made me change my life around if I wasn’t ready. But it came at the right time; a time when I could have gone either way. I could have given up and totally immersed myself in my sadness, or I could have stopped and got on with living. Sometimes, a great riff and some powerful lyrics can do that to you.

Thinking about a future without my brother is super hard, and sometimes impossible. But now I know that I am strong enough to pull myself up and out of a dark place. My friends and family always tell me how proud they are of me for getting through all the bad times, and now I want to make them and my brother proud of what I do in the future. I want to continue putting shows on, working with bands and watching live music as these areas in my life make me feel an intense passion and also like my life is worth living.

Now when someone dies or I feel low, I have given myself tools to recognise when I’m slipping back into darkness, and what I have to do to get out of it. I know now I NEED to go to a gig, close my eyes, raise my arms and get totally lost in the fervour and excitement of a live show. I know I need to sing my favourite lyrics at the top of my lungs. Just like Ollie would have. I know I need to organise a show and watch some great local bands, just like I would have before Ollie died. For me.

I would give anything to have him back and of course I wish my family and I hadn’t had to go through all this at all. But this is who I am now. And I have to sing the songs for him.

– Hannah