13/07/2026
Leo was my big brother. He died 2 weeks ago from Glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer.
As young children, I looked up to him. We giggled in the back of the car. We made up games. He taught me how to play with tiny, tiny plastic soldiers.
One time, he persuaded me to unravel the whole of my knitting kit and tie each wool ball end to end, criss-crossing them from ceiling to floor and across the room like security lazer beams. No one could get in but no one could get out either.
He swam like the Man from Atlantis. Won all the swimming prizes at school. He was a sorcerer, an elven warrior and spent his weekends when not swimming, playing D&D.
He and I didn’t always see the world the same way but I felt I knew his heart.
It was big and squishy.
He always wanted to share the joys of his heart whether it was his love of a flavour, a recipe, or a bargain car part.
His dream as a child was to be Robin Hood. In some ways he fulfilled it when as an immigration lawyer he devoted himself to supporting those in need. He always had time to listen if anyone needed advice, and was always willing to lend me and anyone else a hand to make life easier.
I want to celebrate his big heart.
These last 8 months since his diagnosis I’ve been in the anguish of anticipatory grief.
The grief of seeing Leo deteriorate so quickly.
The grief of loss, of watching parts of his life drop away.
The grief of a deep love despite our differences.
We made our peace with each other and in those long months in the hospital and hospice, he acknowledged me in a way he had never before.
Some of you may recall the fundraiser we did in January to pay for pioneering immunotherapy in Germany. Thank you again to all those who supported it. It really was an incredible response, raising over £40k in 4 days. It’s testament to how much he was loved and respected.
It paid for his treatment in Germany in February after he’d completed NHS radiotherapy. But the treatment needed a few months to be effective and sadly, the brain tumour grew too rapidly to know if this treatment worked after all.
The burial was hard. Something about watching him lowered into the ground and earth put on top of him really made me want to vomit.
But I remind myself he is not really there, it’s just his flesh and bones on a beautiful hillside overlooking the sea. He is energy all around us and part of source. Or at least that is where my spirituality takes me.
And there have been an enormous amount of dragonflies and butterflies turning up in all sorts of forms! Symbols of transformation.
I have a sense of relief and lightness that he is no longer suffering. That he is free. May he be at peace 🤍🕊️
It is Leo’s birthday today.
Leo Rahman 13 /07 /1972 - 28 /06 /2026
