He was quite a bit older than me. Six years. About that. At twenty he was told to give his money away. So he did. In the high street of our small town. He was hearing voices. What they told him to do he took literally. The doctors took the voices literally. 1960’s solutions were as they were. E.C.T – drugs – confinement. That became the story of his life. In and out, up and down, mostly unemployed. Raised a fine family.
Young and idealistic.
A phone call.
She tried to tell. To explain.
Stood in a red public phone box.
Shocked. Deeply touched.
Vowed to find a solution.
It’s not uncommon for youngsters to make a silent promise. A response to a crisis. Sometimes the direction that takes is good, sometimes not so good. Glad to say my young vow matured and went towards the good. Found a so called solution within.
Glad to find that hearing voices is approached, by some, in a radically different way. Responding to the voices in a different way. A route paved with awareness, compassion and wise council.
He was my brother. He died June 2005. Bless him.