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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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Thursday, July 30, 2015A BIT OF A CATCH UP & DEATH X 2
It's been a long time......a very long time, since I indulged in writing a blog post.
I've been home now for over 2yrs & it's only just recently that I've actually wanted to write again...........to pick up my blog & jot down what's been going on in the sludge. It feels like I've been away forever & I have some serious catching up to do!
The photo (above) is of myself & my big brother, fondly nicknamed Charlie, taken when we woz still sprogs.* I'm still blonde -albeit artificially - & the last time I had the opportunity to see Charlie via Skype video, he was bald. Seems his luscious locks went for a ball of shit many moons ago. From what I gather, having a shaved head was all part & parcel of Charlie's appearance of being perceived to look 'well 'ard' as it were. He was as hard as a blob of jelly. His shaved head, pierced ears & multitude of body ink did indeed give him the appearance of being a bit of a tough nut, but those who knew him, knew him to be well soft.
I missed almost 3 decades of Charlie's life. I was thousands of miles away, living in various other countries. Family disputes, major emotional upheaval & an all round loathing for the person he married, made my relationship with my brother incredibly strained. All information gleaned was from my mum & no matter how well I or my family did, Charlie always did better. I was barely in the equation as family at times, let alone sister. It bugged me big time, but I learned to live with it. There was no changing 'family' leanings of one sibling always being better than the other. Charlie was the first born child. He was Number One. He did wrong. He cocked up big time on several occasions, but it was OK because it was him. I'm not jealous..........don't get me wrong...........I'm just sad I s'pose, that I was never good enough.
I had a normal childhood with my big brother. He used to beat me up regularly. Would have me in tears. Regularly. If the bus shelter on Main Road in Sundridge could talk, it would tell a few choice stories about what Charlie did to me on a daily basis, whilst waiting for the coach to take us to school! During the summer months, when the weather permitted, we would walk the almost 2mile trip home from school when (chickens permitting), Charlie used to ambush me along the way & pelt me with eggs from a farmers henhouse near the road. Bastard! I don't know how he did it, but many a time, the eggs were rotten & I'd go home, stinking & bawling. Mum & Dad both worked, so we went home to an empty house, but as much as I've tried, I can't remember a single instance of getting any sympathy, especially from mum (she was the first home from work). I probably got a right telling off instead. Ahhh, those were the days. *shudder*
I have lots of memories of my childhood, but a good proportion of the ol' memory bank has been obliterated along the way, courtesy of malaria mainly. There's stuff I don't want to remember, so it stays buried. But on the whole, my memories of Charlie & us as sprogs are good. He got into mischief, as did I. As we hit our teens, his hormones ran riot & he had a different girlfriend every month. He used to dress impeccably - was always very smart - not a hair out of place, bloody tart! (I was the scruffy one)
Fast forward at warp speed: Charlie joined the army after finishing school. Did well. Left in a hurry to emigrate with his family. Army not at all impressed. His (then) girlfriend joined him in his 'new' country & it was downhill from there as far as the brother/sister relationship went.
It was that way for nearly 40 years.
A few years ago I succumbed to a much muttered request from mum; "I just want to have my 2 kids in the same room with me & dad one more time". The room was a hospital ward, where dad was (again) but we got together & we caught up as much as possible in a few short hours. Gotta admit, it was fun while it lasted. Pity it didn't last long.
I found out via a post on Facebook that Charlie had cancer & the prognosis wasn't good. The world & it's dog knew that my brother was really 'poorly' before I did. Gawd forbid his parents & sister should be told.........nah.......put it on Facebook, cos then at least the bitchbylaw can garnish a whole heap of undeserved sympathy. By the time Charlie had a multitude of scans & tests, the Big C had made its merry way through his body & he was way past any offer of chemo. He had a series of experimental treatments, but needless to say, they didn't work.
On the condition that I "don't cause any family upset"** I was 'allowed' to converse with Charlie via Skype. My few calls to him were monitored by the bitchbylaw & not enough was said. He was desperately tired most of the time, in pain & on oxygen, but he still had his sense of humour & that will be my lasting memory of him. He was wickedly funny. Especially to me.
He fought to the very end. He didn't want to die. He finally gave up on the last day of February 2015.
My mum lost her first born child, her special baby boy.
My dad was gutted. He lost his boy. He was too ill to go to the funeral. From the day of Charlie's death, my dad gave up wanting to live. He died a mere 9 weeks later, from a series of health issues & a broken heart.
He went to be with his boy.
I've cried my own tears over the loss of Charlie & my dad. It certainly hasn't been an easy situation to deal with, that's for sure. I'm just grateful that I have the most amazing partner-in-life, who has held me, comforted me, listened to me, made me laugh & loved me like no other person could. He takes my sadness, my anger, my frustration & whatever other crap emotion I endure & with a few well chosen words, makes everything all better again. I am one very lucky wench.
I don't do religion, in any way, shape or form. Wherever Charlie & dad have gone, I hope they're having fun. They too have 3 decades of catching up to do, so they'll have a whole heap to talk about. (No wondering my ears have been burning a lot recently!)
* Mental note to self: One day, do a post on nicknames.
** I've never been the cause of any 'upset'. I've simply responded to whatever shit was thrown my way. Others are content to brush everything under the carpet. I'm not.
 
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