And Then There Were Three...
Well. That was harsh.7 AM in the UK or thereabouts my brother, Martin, died. He was 43. He would have been 44 in September. That's probably quite a lot in dog years. But he wasn't a dog he was a person.
Truth is he was never happy and there was certainly a side of him that was self-destructive. He died of liver failure. He had been told not to drink and probably continued to do so right up until it was too late.
I did my main grieving last week when the doctor reported to my sister that he "had days rather than weeks". The situation was also coloured by the fact that last week my father, who has not been well for a while, fell and broke his hip. So a family crisis ensued with my sisters gathering in the town of our birth, Hemel Hempstead, to help as best they could. My parents emigrated to Australia around 18 years ago so dad's drama is being played out in their adopted city of Perth.
I say my sisters gathering but in truth, Kay has lived there for some time and Nicola, who took her family to Scotland, was the only one who actually gathered.
It has been a stressful time for my mother who didn't really handle it well as one could understand. It must be especially difficult to lose a child even if that child is in his forties and has children of his own. But as dad is not well and also in intensive care it must be hard to know which way to turn.
It is going to be hard for his children they are still very young and no one should lose a father at that age.
I have tried to think back to a time where we were friends and we had fun... but I really can't think of any. I do remember him at my youngest sister's wedding where he decided to interject at the reception with some loud and very bitter barbs. I do seem to think that he was very bitter.
In his later years he re-found the religion he was christened to, the catholic faith, and on Friday, I believe, he was given the last rites. So hopefully he sees the situation as the start of the next great journey and not the end of everything.
My sisters have asked me to track some stuff down for the funeral. One of which is this poem by Christina Rosetti:
Remember Me
Remember Me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thought that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rosetti 1830-1894
Martin Noel James Molloy 1962-2006
posted by John Molloy @ 10:40 PM
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