My brother Dale, is dying. Cancer has robbed him of the rest of his life. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer a year ago. Received treatment. One morning he had a stroke. Killed the left side of his body. Diagnosis: metastatic brain cancer. Too deep. Finality. Today, Wednesday 29 January, he is in bed, at home. Can't do anything for himself. On morphine. In and out of sleep. Pre-coma. Eyes roll into his head. Doesn't recognise his family. Skin jaundiced. Face swollen. Body thin as a rake. It's simply awful.

This is for you.

We were never that close. You once said that I should stay away from your children because homosexuality is a disease. You didn't want your children to turn gay. I was hurt. But not as hurt as you, because you didn't expect your brother to be gay. Your children grew up without me in their lives. I missed that so much.

You punched me the night I came out to mom and dad. Over and over again. All over. You screamed how filthy I was in your eyes. Deranged. Diseased. Evil. I cried even while you and Dad hit me one after the other. I forgot about it as the years went by. Forgiveness you will find in heaven.

We became friends. Eventually. I took you to a gay bar once. My friends crowded around you. You were so handsome then. Your ego inflated by all the attention. You found them fascinating. But that was the only time we went out together to party. I wish we had spent more time together bro.

You did well. Although I am still shocked that with all your money, you never once helped me look after Mom before she died. I remember phoning you, asking you for a measly two hundred, and you said no. Just like that. NO. It wasn't for me. I never asked you for anything. It was for our mother. You bought a fancy speed boat, owned fancy cars, and even claimed early pension.

I remember how disgusted your family was when you walked out of their lives and divorced them and your wife for a younger woman. Don't get me wrong, I love your new wife. She's had very little sleep in the last year whilst looking after you. Changing your clothes. Making your bed.Taking you to the toilet.

I remember how you swore our Mom when she discovered you were having an affair with another woman. How we followed you one night and found you sleeping at your mistresses flat. How you sped through the streets trying to get away from us. And your first wife forgave you for the sake of your young children.

Three years ago, you started inviting me to spend time with you. We went skiing, had fun on your boat on the lake, began to forge a bond.

But you never once apologised.

Now, seeing you like this, I weep for you. You were the best brother I never had.

And I love you.

I hope that your pain will end today. That you will fall into coma. I'm not selfish by saying this. Your quality of life is ended. Time to go home.