Today is the fourth anniversary of my brother David’s murder. As each year slowly comes around to this date his loss affects me even more. I also know that many of his friends are feeling that loss. With Mum and Dad now gone on as well wherever they are, I hope they are reunited and happy.
I resent that time was taken from us all by his murderers. They stole a loving father, a husband, a son a Godson, a cousin, a friend and his way a good man. Don’t get me wrong, Dave or Bruv to me, could be a right pain in the rear. He would argue that the sky was purple with red spots if the mood took him. He was obstinate as a donkey at times. He liked a drink and the company of friends. He was never good at the day to day trials of life. He needed to feel that he was making a difference. In his humanitarian work he found that difference. Dave was also generous, generous to his family, to his friends and to complete strangers.
It was this generosity of nature that took Dave to places of danger. Took him to distant countries and away from his family. We, his family took pride in Dave’s work, in this generosity. Although we missed him greatly we knew he was there to help his fellow man.
In these days of increased rhetoric of division and hatred humanitarian workers are sorely needed. We have political leaders promoting those politics of division. Trying to emphasise the differences between people and communities and not the similarities. People like my brother go into the field, often in danger of their lives to help those less fortunate than themselves. They never say, “we can’t go to that country, they pray a different way” they never say, “their skin is a different colour am not helping them”. My brother was and is a hero, and those workers like him are heroes. They don’t stand up and say look at me, look at what I have done. They just help those who need it.
My brother is my hero and I try in my own way to emulate his good works.
Dave was not perfect, however he was a good man and I am proud to be his brother. .