Brotherly bond intertwines in text, illustrations

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This article was published 29/06/2024 (823 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

While COVID-19 and lockdowns took a toll on everyone, perhaps none were more affected than those who live in care facilities. It is impossible to forget how already-precarious systems broke apart and many residents paid dearly — some with their lives, others with physical and mental deterioration.

In supportive housing for adults with learning disabilities, Reuben Coe endured isolation and neglect that led him to stop talking and eating and to start drinking, hoarding and hiding himself in layers of clothing. When he sent his brother Manni a text reading “brother.do.you.love.me.,” Manni recognized it as “a call to arms” and left his home in Spain to free Reuben and help him recover.

When Manni collects Reuben, he finds him so diminished that he wonders, “How did my jubilant, happy-go-lucky, daring young brother get lost in silence? Now he walks as if he’s made of paper, and sits down as if his body is made of delicate crystal…Why weren’t the caregivers able to care?”

In order to coax Reuben, who has Down syndrome, back to life, Manni “will have to be much more than his brother. I will have to be his caregiver, his parent, his friend, his interpreter in a world that doesn’t want to understand him” — or, for that matter, see him.

This reluctance is unfortunate because Reuben at his best is a joyous, affectionate, creative man who delights in singing karaoke and performing, watching films such as The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, having a pint at the pub, meticulously drawing what matters to him, travelling (he once walked a 338-kilometre stretch of the Camino de Santiago), fine dining and loving his friends and family. “With Reuben… I never feel lonely,” Manni writes. “His presence completes me.”

At his lowest, though, Reuben is “careful not to look at the mirror. He knows his reflection is there, staring back at him,” and he is determined not to acknowledge it. Having grown up surrounded and somewhat sheltered by loving family and friends, Reuben hasn’t fully accepted his Down syndrome and, as Manni observes, “now he rejects people who could become friends.”

Retreating to a borrowed farm cottage in their native England, the Coe brothers begin a months-long quest to revitalize Reuben and discern a way forward. As with every great journey, the path is rife with challenges.

From encouraging Reuben to walk, eat and talk again to weaning him off of antidepressants to agonizing over his future, Manni wrestles with self-doubt, loneliness, exhaustion, despair and anger, feelings that will be familiar to many caregivers.

It isn’t easy for Reuben either. From gradually reclaiming his physical abilities to coming off of fluoxetine, to trying dance therapy, to taking on responsibilities to spending time at a day centre, Reuben also wrestles with self-doubt, loneliness, exhaustion, despair and anger, feelings that will be familiar to many who find themselves reliant upon caregivers.

Nevertheless, as winter gives way to spring, Manni and Reuben emerge stronger and wiser, in part because Manni recognizes Reuben as not only his brother but also, in many instances, his caregiver, parent, friend and interpreter.

The Coe brothers’ lives are intertwined like the words and illustrations that comprise their book. Without Manni’s tender, fierce, and at times devastating writing, Reuben’s drawings would be lesser; without Reuben’s vibrant, evocative and insightful pictures, Manni’s text would be lesser. Together they make an unforgettable whole.

An important story of empathy, courage and transformation, Brother Do You Love Me asks each of us to open our hearts and minds to every person’s possibilities and demands that societies better support and include the most vulnerable among us.

Jess Woolford has both given and received care.