I am by 22 months, Lanre Johnson’s older brother. For those who don’t know, the only reason we don’t share the same surname is because I changed mine in my late twenties. For the first 23 years of her life, school and uni aside, we lived in the same house. I had no idea when I left the house to move into a house in preparation for parenthood, that I would ever again share the same roof with my little sister, it was unimaginable to me, and I have no doubt for Lanre too. During those early years when we lived together, even though I loved my parents and big sister. Lanre was my first love. She was the one I felt responsible for, I was very protective over her, and even though we fought like cat and dog and rarely got on, we loved each other dearly. It used to be a big frustration to her that she wasn’t known as Lanre Johnson, her name in the area was ”Victor Johnson’s sister”. Lanre was even then very strong-minded and she never backed down and certainly not when it came to me. She was always very private and possessed the qualities of honesty and integrity. I was arguably more naturally gifted, and as a youngster there was talk of me becoming a lawyer, but I was wayward for a long time, and wasted my talent, and lazed around and went to a college of higher education to get my degree. Not my little sister though, she was focused, she always kept her dignity and she worked hard to achieve her goals. I remember the day that she made our mother so happy, by being the one of the two of us to enter a top flight university. Our mother touched the walls of the university and said “in this London, one of my children enter university”. I was very grateful to Lanre for that, she was making our mum proud, whilst I was just giving our mum a headache. Lanre was determined to be a lawyer and she did make it happen and very successfully too. She was one of us two younger ones raised here in England that had made our mother proud, something I didn’t do until I was 30. Over the next 25 years, we had a normal-ish relationship, and had our ups and downs, but I’m able to cherish the fact that she came to support me when I gave the biggest speech of my life to date, to 2000 new UCL graduates, as I have my Masters from there, and she was so proud of me. I wish I could turn back the clock so that she was with me when I got my OBE, she would really have valued the experience, and thereby enriching it further for me.

Lanre was diagnosed with cancer in July 2013, and over a year later in November 2014 she was given just a few days to live. She was in hospital gravely ill, but she was determined to fight the illness. She moved into the house with Seyi and I, on December 3 2014, the staff thought she was coming to my house to die, but she wasn’t, she was coming there to live, to have her 50th birthday in 2015 and get better. She was supposed to be confined to the bed, because her hip was broken, but Lanre wasn’t prepared to accept that and despite the pain she taught herself to take steps again. She also one day packed herself up, got a taxi and went to Brent Cross for lunch, you may possibly have to have seen the state that Lanre was in to realise that it was nearly impossible for her to have done that, but somehow she did it, even though it took a hell of a lot out of her, she did it and was euphoric. I went mad about it, but she had this grin on her face like the naughtiest school girl ever, she achieved something someone no-one thought she could do.

I can’t describe how difficult it was to watch my little sister endure so much, battle so courageously and uncomplainingly over those 14 months, yet at the same time feeling completely useless when it came to the only thing that I really wanted to do, which was to make her better. There’s an old song by the Hollies, called “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”, and by changing the words to “She’s my sister”, it became a bit of a theme song for me. A few words from the song are “So on we go, her welfare is my concern, No burden is she to bear, We'll get there, For I know, She would not encumber me, She ain’t heavy, She’s my sister”. The lyrics of the whole song perfectly summed up how I felt about the situation, but it certainly wasn’t all one way, in fact I gained at least as much as I gave. Even in her frail state, she saw that I had my own challenges and she tried to help me with them. Even this Christmas gone, she worked so hard to ensure that I had the one I wanted, she organised almost everything, ordered the food, bought presents for all of us, the carers, the staff at the hospital and our dear neighbour, but on the day she couldn’t even lift her head. We spent the New Year alone in the house together and she was the first person to wish me a Happy New Year, I’ll forever cherish that. It was an absolute privilege living with Lanre, she exhibited a level of bravery that I hope I never have to see again, she conducted herself with so much dignity and honour, she was so conscious that she didn’t want to worry me that even when it was clear the pain was unbearable, she would say “I’m ok, I’m getting stronger”. I am not just saying this for effect, but in those 14 months I learned that my little sister was a truly extraordinary woman, extremely kind and caring and with the heart of a lion and I have no problem being known from here on in as “Lanre Johnson’s brother”.

I’m extremely grateful for everyone who has come to pay their last respects to Lanre and support us her surviving siblings and family. I know everyone means well, but speaking for myself, for all those who might think it is of some comfort to me who has just lost his little sister, to say something along the lines of “it is well”, or that “at least she’s not suffering anymore”, as if you are not talking to me about someone who I have loved her whole life, or not talking to me about someone who I lived with, or not talking to me about someone who died in my home or not talking to me about someone who I was alone with when she died, let me tell you that for me, it is not well, and that despite the pain constantly increasing, as did her suffering, Lanre did not want to die! Right until the very end she wanted to live, she was desperate to live and I wanted her to live, and I want her to live still.