My younger brother was murdered by Isis terrorists one year ago today. David was kidnapped and killed while carrying out humanitarian work in Syria. He was there to bring relief to the Syrian people. As well as a brother, he was a son, a father, a nephew, a husband and friend. To many of us, he was a hero.
He was a normal bloke, but he lived an extraordinary life, one that was defined by his determination to bring good to the world, both through his actions and his overwhelming belief in helping others. David and I had an upbringing that was full of love, joy and family. Our parents instilled in us respect for other people’s cultures and beliefs and a sense that, where possible, we should reach out and lend a helping hand to those in need.
It was these values that brought David to far-flung countries to provide relief and support for those who needed it the most. From the former Yugoslavia, to Libya, to South Sudan and eventually to Syria, he did not see faith or creed, colour or politics. He only saw people in need. He risked his safety to go into areas of conflict and put his belief in humanity above all else.
The last 12 months have brought the most difficult days of my life. Horrifying images of my brother’s death haunt me and have brought me many dark, sleepless nights. I will never forget the pain in gathering my family together to tell them that David had gone. Isis killed him and in doing so they broke our hearts.
In the months leading up to my brother’s death, I thought a lot about how I would feel if worst came to worst. Of course, I struggled with feelings of hatred and anger. But it dawned on me that my brother’s life was not about hatred. Rather, it was about love, for all people. In my darkest hours, this is something I have turned to, time and time again.
David had an enormous capacity for bringing people together. In my desire to honour his work, it is this that inspired me to take action by opening my arms to new friendships. Over the course of the last year, I have met many new people, from heads of states and religious leaders to community mentors. The friendship and support I have encountered over the past year have helped me to manage the loss that I feel every day.
Among the most moving has been the bond I have developed with Shahnawaz Haque, an imam from east London, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration on my personal journey. Shahnawaz has also been integral in helping me share my messages of unity among the Muslim community and people of all beliefs.
In getting to know Shahnawaz, I have also grown to appreciate Islam, which I have come to recognise as a religion of tolerance and justice. This has been made clear to me through the sheer revulsion expressed by members of the Muslim faith in rejecting Isis’s actions against my brother.
One encounter stands out; an elderly Muslim man approached me during a visit to a mosque in Bradford and, with tears streaming down his face, said: “Isis have beheaded your brother and are attempting to behead our faith.”
On the eve of my brother’s memorial service, I called on everyone, every community, every faith, to undertake a single act of unity – one simple gesture, one act, one moment – that draws people together. I echo this message one year on, as I truly believe it is vital in ensuring that society is not broken apart by those wishing to cause us harm.
My brother didn’t see other nationalities or religions. He just saw human beings in need of help to get by or sometimes a lot of help to live to see another day. As the anniversary of his death arrives, I hope he is looking down and is proud of what can be achieved if we all stand together.
