My Brother David
Always supposing I have declining years. We all face annihilation in one form or another, well if my life gets cut
shorter than I thought would happen...I will just have to make sure I have
everything still compiled and recorded at the least in a rough format before I
start my journey...one cannot prepare enough and that is exactly what I shall
do...prepare.
Of course I should begin at the beginning really, what
happened was that my baby brother David was killed in a traffic accident. He
was just 34. I cannot describe the terrible sense of loss or the events of that
night without hurting all over again, sufficient to say, my family were
devastated and my little Mum and my sister and I, grew very close as we
supported each other through the mechanics of burying our loved done.
It was a
dark time and not very pleasant to dwell on. Following the drawn out wait of the
local council grave diggers being on holiday for Easter, after a two week wait
for the Coroner’s report following an autopsy we eventually managed to give my
brothers body the final rest he deserved and the following weeks were spent
with distraction techniques for us all.
On one of those distraction days we sat together in a pretty
little garden centre and I went to buy coffee and cakes. On my return to the
table Mother offered me the money for the drinks and cakes and I refused. What
followed was a five minute delicate but never the less argument where Mother
tried to get me to take the money and I insisted it was my gift to the day.
It ended with my sister intervening
‘ Mum, so Sue has to take time off work, so
have I and neither of us have much money, but right now, today, Susan has ten
pounds she wants to spend on us, and tomorrow, it isn’t promised, we found that
out the hard way, so let her buy you a coffee and a cake Mother, it’s her gift
and it’s her pleasure, lets enjoy it eh’.
We sat down with a sigh, the awkward moment passed and a
lady sat at the next table said quietly, I have been where you are, I wish you
all peace and smiled sadly. A tiny gesture and it undid the emotional side of us . We stretched
across a little space and touched hands in a gesture of sorrows shared .
Others in the small cafe nodded and like an odd sort of Mexican wave people
around the room stopped for a little moment and touched hands, or looked
meaningfully towards us, towards each other. A small moment, an insignificant
thing in terms of world issues, and yet, for us, a single moment of shared
pains with our fellow man . An ease, a gentleness descended and then without
any prevarication Mother said’ what do you want to be when you grow up girls’
and that single small moment changed my entire world once again.
It’s fair to say that when Mother asked her question both my
sister and I laughed out loud. It was the sort of thing you expect when you’re
ten, but then we realised she meant what she said. We discussed how our brother
had never completed his early promise of career and the subsequent issues of
his marriage to a female he had long since left but never divorced.
We worked
our way through the reality of our world and the conversation ended up back at
Mothers question. Simple, direct and honest, she wanted to know what we really
wanted in our lives, so we told her. We also acted on it.
The result was that both my sister and I changed our way of
living and our destinations on life’s meandering path became different, more
fulfilling and more honest with ourselves.
I became an artist, travelling 120
miles for an interview at a college, moving home and for 8 glorious years I
lived the life I truly loved and welcomed. My art sold in small amounts and I
had a little success in other areas, a little poem published here, a small blog
gaining a following there, and all in all I enjoyed my world immensely. Eventually I published some of my books on Kindle Fingal and SeaHold and more to come as I finalise my many years of writings.
I even
managed to get embroiled in an affair of the heart which is still ongoing but
as they’ say, ‘its complicated’, he is much younger than I and I don’t want to
share my space these days, but its still alive and kicking in its own unique
fashion.
One gesture of sorrow from a kind hearted woman, gave root and then flourishing vine to my new life.
never be afraid to share your sympathy, who knows what it will do.
