"Look! He's got his eyes open!" It had taken more than 13 weeks, but finally I saw my brother's eyes again. Unlike in the films, this doesn't mean Simon has woken up - but he is getting better slowly. I was so overwhelmed with excitement when I saw him open his eyes. Even though they were barely open halfway, it was an amazing feeling, realising just how far Simon had come since his initial injury.

At 5am on New Year's Day, there was a loud knock on the door of our house in Chandler's Ford. I listened from upstairs as two police officers told my parents that my 20-year-old brother, Simon, had suffered a massive head injury and was on his way to the Wessex Neurological Unit in Southampton for an emergency operation.

A policeman had found Simon lying in a Bournemouth road, unconscious. It seemed he had been walking through a car park which had an 18in drop to the pavement.

He didn't see the drop and tripped, hitting his head on the road.

Simon was a second year student at Bournemouth University, studying archaeology and prehistory, and had been out celebrating new year with friends from his course.

As my parents rushed to the hospital, I curled up in Simon's bed at home, cuddling his toy cow, crying uncontrollably. He wasn't expected to survive, so I was just waiting for the phone to ring.

My dad, Andy, came up after Simon's initial operation to take me to the Neurological Intensive Care Unit.

It's an image that will never leave me - Simon unconscious, wired up to massive life-support machines, with a large scar on his head. He looked nothing like the brother I had seen just hours before.

He had to have part of his skull removed in the operation, to give his brain room to expand after the impact.

My mum, Jean, had taken Simon to Bournemouth on New Year's Eve. I didn't see him go, so hadn't said goodbye to him before he left and I now regret that very much.

After five days in hospital, Simon underwent an operation to control the pressure in his head.

Doctors advised us to get everyone in to say their last goodbyes, as he was not expected to survive much longer.

He battled on, and was kept in an induced coma for the first couple of weeks, giving his body a chance to heal. Life-support machines continued doing everything for him.

When Simon first moved his arms and legs, relief swept over us. We were all thrilled.

The doctors had been worried about his ability to move his right side but, amazingly, he was moving both sides.

All the doctors and nurses have been great, keeping us updated with everything that's happening.

Mum, dad and I have become almost part of the furniture, visiting Simon every day, playing his favourite music, talking to him, and joking with him as if he's awake, just in case he can hear us.

If there is anything in the newspaper we think he would be interested in, we read it to him. We have also recently started playing little musical instruments to him, from the shop he works in on Sundays - Hawkins Bazaar, in Southampton - hoping he would recognise the sounds. This seems to work, as he often moves his head towards the noise.

When the pressure in his head started rocketing, Simon had another life-saving operation, this time to insert a tube into his skull, allowing the excess liquid to escape. This meant another agonising wait while he was in the operating theatre.

Simon later had a tracheotomy - an operation to insert a breathing tube into his throat, so the tube in his mouth could be removed.

After he contracted MRSA, he was moved into a side room, to prevent the bug spreading. MRSA is treatable, and nothing to worry about. Many people in hospital pick the bug up, as their bodies are obviously more susceptible to infections.

His room is now decorated with get well soon cards, along with photos of him and his mates, and Saints pictures.

Simon seems to be slowly improving. As his breathing improves, the chest infection he contracted is clearing up, and he is moving more. He is beginning to come off his breathing machine, and move onto a smaller piece of equipment which fits onto the tracheotomy, called a trachy mask.

He has regular physiotherapy and recently one of the physiotherapists reported seeing Simon open one of his eyes, for the first time. This was obviously fantastic news, as it was another step towards his waking up.

He has also started being put onto the tilt table in the hospital - a special table which a patient is put onto allowing them to be moved slowly upwards, until they are in a standing position. This means Simon's organs have to bear his body's weight again, after months of lying down. This is some of the best stimulation he can get to try and wake him up, as it means his whole body has to work.

On Sunday, while his uncle and aunt were visiting, Simon opened his eyes for the second time. Then, on Tuesday, while mum and I were talking to him, he opened them again.

Even though I had been told he had done it before, seeing him do it made all the difference.

This has been the hardest time of our lives. But when Simon opens his eyes, or yawns, or stretches - all the little things - it gives me hope that everything will work out fine in the end.