30 years on. He was 11 and had leukaemia. I was 16.
He developed the illness at 3, had treatment and it went into remission. My other brother and I were told he was ill. We sometimes went to clinic with him while he had lumbar punctures. It was a long boring afternoon for us.
Whilst it was in remission life was pretty normal. We all went to school, played and fought. The two boys were more pally but basically we all got on. We were not a touchy feely family at all.
My mum and dad separated. My mum got a full time job. I don't remember being told but at some point the leukaemia came back. He went for treatment, he was off school sometimes. It seemed like no big deal, nothing was said, it was routine. He and my mum had their clinic treat- going to a nearby cafe and having coffee. She worked hard and cooked and we all watched TV together. I had my friends, my room and music. I was doing ok at school.
My brother would have nosebleeds sometimes. Then he would have a couple of days off school with my mum after a visit to the hospital. One morning he had felt ill overnight, had had a nosebleed and my mum said they were off to the hospital. So when my other brother and I got home to an empty house we weren't surprised. It got later and later. Around eight my mum came in. She stood in the doorway and said "your brother is going to die. I need to go back to the hospital now but I thought I should come and tell you"
My brother swore and after a shocked silence I burst into tears. My mother said "will no one give me a hug?" no one moved. I felt frozen. She left again after some talk of what we should have for dinner.
The funeral happened. Life continued. Some snippets:
I found that my mum had cut out any drawings of my brother from my sketchbooks. She had put them in her scrapbook about him. Over the years she has frequently said I should have realized how ill my brother was. I should have known. My other brother had realized why hadn't I? About two years after the event during a long hot drive when I was a teenager in a black gloom she told me I was not good company like my brother had been. They could chat about anything. Saying "I know you don't like talking about your brother (I didn't) you just don't understand".
I feel guilt for not knowing my brother better, for not liking him much at the time, for not having more sympathy when he was ill and having treatment for resenting my mother's closeness to him.
I am angry with my mother for the way everything was handled.
I can understand that she did what she felt was right at the time.
It feels good to put it all down. We rarely talk about him now. There is too much underneath.
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Bereavement
My brothers death is still on my mind
7 replies
IAmSheWhoMustBeObeyed · 30/10/2012 21:13
OP posts:
Everlong ·
30/10/2012 23:48
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