An Older Brother's Responsibility

A fictional recount I created for my English supervised task. Hope you all enjoy

Tragedy struck us that day. On a day that should have been momentous and exciting. A first family holiday with my younger brother. He was five years old and after all the problems he’d had, going in and out of hospital for five whole years, he was finally ok. We could finally be a proper family. My brother had a heart failure when he was born, of course I didn’t understand this concept at the time. All I knew was that my baby brother was sick and he needed to get better. Getting better meant that my parents were in and out of hospital with him almost every second week. I didn’t get to see them often as I stayed at my grandparents a lot. I suppose they were shielding me from the worry and heartache they had endured. That was finally over and he no longer had doctors and nurses as his family. He had us. Little Sammy, my mother, father, and myself were in a small shack just outside of Victor Harbour, just close enough that we could go into the main street, just far enough that it was quiet and calm. At night the sky was so clear that every single star shone with the brightness of a cars headlights. It was perfectly incredible.

We had driven for at least two hours and for the young ten year old mind that I possessed at that time and that of my brother Sammy’s two hours was a lifetime. So when we arrived at the shack, there is no need to explain that we were already running amuck. The shack was only small. Two bedrooms, one for the parents and one for the children. There was a small kitchen, which made ours at home look like an enormous restaurant, a dining table that barely fit the four of us and a bathroom with a toilet, basin and shower. It was perfect for us. Sammy and I spent ten minutes arguing over who would get the top bunk in our bedroom, I was trying to use all my superiority as the older sibling but that didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. My mother’s words were ‘Let your brother have it, it’s his first time. You can have it next time’. She was always a mediator in our arguments, dad would always just let us sort it out between ourselves. It was his way of doing things.

After claiming our bunks we ran around the house, childish fights, racing, and riveting, two player games of hide-and-go-seek plagued every single room. Before long my father had sent us outside, completely infuriated by our rampant nonsense and so we continued our games in the gargantuan field located at the back of the shack. The air smelled of wheat and the heat of the day made the air seem hazy, like when you look over a pot of boiling water on a stove top. Nevertheless, my brother and I didn’t care, we were excited to be free of the city for once. We rushed to the edge of the property, standing on the bars of the fence and looking out over the top of the rise we were situated on. A large intake of breath came from both of us as we relaxed and soaked up our surroundings.

This didn’t last long. I didn’t see him at first, I was too focused on something in the sky, off in the distance. I think it may have been a hawk or sea bird of some sort. All I did notice was the sound of something heavy, crushing the dry, dead grass. I turned towards Sammy hoping he just tripped and his big brother could simply pick him up, kiss his sore and calm his tears.

But there was no tears. There was no sore. I noticed my little baby brother lying on the ground, seizing up, shaking. His eyes rolled back in his head as he shook amongst the grass, not showing any signs of stopping. I jumped down, rushing to his side and lifting his head to rest in my lap. I attempted to wake him up or help him in some way. But as a ten year old, I knew nothing of epilepsy or seizures.

All I can remember was crying out for my mum and my dad to come to us but we had gone too far away. The boundary of the property was no less than two hundred metres away from the back door. My small, pre-pubescent voice would not travel that distance. I had a decision to make. Pick him up and risk hurting him or leave him there and go get help.

I chose the former, I couldn’t leave him out here in the heat. I couldn’t in my sane mind do that. So I placed my arms under his knees and his back, standing up tall and running as fast as I could back to the door. I was his older brother. This was my fault, I shouldn’t have taken him out so far, I should have known the risks, and I should have recognised my protective responsibilities and done something. But it was too late now for ‘should of’s’ and ‘would of’s’.

I was in sight of the back door, my mother had seen me running and was coming towards me herself as I desperately tried to reach her.

But we were too late…

I lost my baby brother that day. I didn’t recognise my responsibilities as an older brother and I have regretted that my whole life. I just want him back. I need him back. But in some twisted way, this motivated me. It motivated me towards a new goal, from that day forth, to make sure that no other family would have to go through what mine did. Now I’m on call with the Royal Flying Doctor’s Service and hopefully, one day, I will be able to say I have paid my dues.

Reviews

[Dhrit Khona]

I am a younger brother and these words left me just thinking! Beautiful piece...