Someone accused me recently of being ‘maudlin’. I say ‘accused’ because although I knew it wasn’t a compliment, it is a word I have most often used in conjunction with inebriation i.e ‘a maudlin drunk’ and so I dashed off to Google a definition. It didn’t look good: ‘self-pityingly or tearfully sentimental‘. As to whether that is me or not, the jury is still out (although I suspect there is a modicum of truth in the allegation. I am sad a lot), but one of the main things I loved about Cathy Rentzenbrink’s ‘The Last Act of Love‘ is that she writes without being at all maudlin. She is depressed a lot of time, confused, unhappy and drunk (occupational hazard of having parents who own a pub) but never self-pitying or sentimental.
The book is autobiographical, recounting Cathy’s younger brother Matty’s life, accident and death. Matty was hit by car when he was just 16 and suffered a life-threatening head injury. Doctors managed to save his life. Or did they? In fact, what they saved was Matty’s body. After the accident, and despite initial signs that he may come round from his coma, Matty never recovered consciousness and survived in what is known as a persistent vegetative state. Eight years after he was knocked down, he died, after his family won a court case to allow water and nutrition to be withdrawn.
I was quite old before I realised that your sibling relationships are very often the longest of your life. Obvious when you think about it, but the bond with our brothers and sisters is totally unique. Cathy Rentzenbrink’s loss is heartbreaking as she describes in searingly honest prose exactly what it is like to care for a totally unresponsive, 6ft tall young man. At times it makes extremely unpleasant reading, but the telling is important. This is not a book about a court decision, it is a book about family, love and surviving when the worst you can imagine actually happens.