My Brother Fitz: The Man Who Lived Life His Way

So many unanswered questions, but also his legacy, a legacy of bravery. He had reinvented himself so many times in his life, and he did it all on his own. And although we didn’t always understand his

Growing up, I was the youngest and the only girl in the family, and my brother Fitz made sure I knew it.

He teased me relentlessly, as older brothers often do. I can still hear his laughter echoing as I’d storm off in frustration. I remember being so relieved when he finally moved out, it meant no more teasing, no more feeling like the “little girl.” Finally, I had his room, and for a while, it felt like freedom. The mind of the 16-year-old girl, eh?

But now, looking back, I see it differently. Fitz’s teasing wasn’t just to wind me up, it was his way of showing he cared. And as I reflect on his life, I realise just how much he shaped who I became.

If you asked me to describe him, I'd say Fitz was the most intellectual one of us three, the quiet one, the one who quietly challenged the norms and did things on his own terms. Handsome, 6ft 3, a keen rugger player, and the one who taught me about integrity, honesty and

Time

We lost him back in February 2022.

His death was a shock, and it turned our world upside down. It wasn’t just the loss of a brother, it was the loss of a man who, in many ways, remained a mystery to us.

He was intensely private, and as his family, we realised just how little we knew about his life. Between me, my husband and eldest brother we uncovered lots about him: both immensely sad and heartwarming. Not least two close friends from abroad, who got in touch with us months later, and with whom we have an indelible bond. Fitz’s life was a puzzle.

But the thing is, he wasn’t just secretive, he was quietly brave.

Fitz wasn’t afraid to make changes in his life. But he did them in a well-researched and calculated fashion. He started out studying mechanical engineering at Leeds University and worked for a while at Lucas in Birmingham. But after a couple of years, he decided engineering wasn’t his life’s purpose. Out of nowhere, he sat Mum and I down to inform us that he was switching careers, and off to study accountancy at Birmingham Polytechnic (now Birmingham City University - aka BCU). From engineer to accountant. I mean who does that? Fitz did, and he excelled.

Wild coincidence because when I decided to switch careers briefly from journalism to academia, I studied and taught at the university where Fitz did (BCU)

Then he took things even further. He picked up French again and became a fluent speaker. This skill later took him to Geneva for forensic accounting work with Swiss banks and eventually to Deloitte in Paris. What we didn’t know was that during this time, Fitz was beginning to fall in love with the city. He told us about visiting friends there on holiday, but we wish we had known more about his adventures. Every time I tried to ask, he would never be drawn, that was Fitz. He lived life on his own terms: quietly, privately.

Even so, his heart attack was more than a shock.

So many unanswered questions, but also his legacy, a legacy of bravery. He had reinvented himself so many times in his life, and he did it all on his own. And although we didn’t always understand his life choices, I now see how remarkable they were.

Punk

Growing up with my brother was like being surrounded by soooo many books, newspapers, and records. He was a man of intellect, always reading Private Eye, The Times, or The Financial Times. His wit was sharp, his humour dry, and his love for knowledge absolutely contagious. He even taught me how to play chess—though I was terrible at it, by the way. He always beat me.

He also introduced me to music that would shape my tastes forever. At just seven years old, I was sitting in his room as he played me punk music: the Sex Pistols, Billy Idol, and The Damned. I remember thinking, “What is this?”, such rebellious sounds! But now, I realise just how much those sounds influenced me. He also introduced me to jazz, Billie Holiday, Ray Charles, and Duke Ellington—and classical music, with Vivaldi's Four Seasons becoming a firm favourite.

Those records, which I later found in his home after his death, are a poignant reminder of the things we shared, even when we didn’t fully understand each other.

Handling of things

I was the one who took charge after his death, handling the phone calls, the emails, the arrangements, the details. My eldest brother and my husband were both busy with their full-time jobs, and I was the one working part-time, therefore it made complete sense for me to step up. It wasn’t easy, it was a harrowing 18 months but it felt like the only thing I could do for him. To ‘do right’ by him. It was my way of honouring the brother I had grown up with, the one who helped shaped me and my outlook on life, and the one I was still trying to understand.

But as I was going through everything I realised there was more we didn’t know.

I wish I had known more of what he was planning, that he was ready to return to Birmingham, that he was ready to make another change. He was always reinventing himself, and in some ways, I wish I could have helped him with that final transition back home to us. Our families would have wrapped our arms around him and welcomed him home. I can imagine us having a glass of Bordeaux in the local pub with him now.

But I know I can’t keep looking back. Fitz wouldn’t want that. So instead I remember him for who he was and who I have discovered him to be - brave and all about change, courage, and living on your own terms.

All this will continue to shape me for the rest of my life.

We’ll never stop missing you, Fitz

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