How it began
Eddie MacDonald reflects on death, prison and poetry
On 11 July 2000 the prison vicar broke the dreadful news to me: ‘Your brother Daniel has died. He took his own life.’
I sat in the office in pure silence, trying to absorb what I was told.
‘You’ve got it wrong,’ I said. ‘I’m waiting to see Daniel when I move from here. We’re meeting for the first time. It’s going to be great.’
I walked back to my lonely prison cell, shut the door and just stared, standing by the window, silent tears slipping down my face. I felt numb. I couldn’t understand why this had happened.
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