29 June 2013

Remembered

It's three years since my oldest brother died - our Paul. He would have been sixty six this August. No growing old for him. No wheelchairs or zimmer frames. No pension books or preliminary visits to residential homes. No memory loss or squeaky voice. He died, most unexpectedly, in his sleep and when his phone alarm went off to rouse him for work that fateful Monday morning, his hand did not reach out to stop it. I think of him often. He was a good man.

10 comments:

  1. Obviously a heart-wrenching event for those left behind; but, as you say, he'll miss out on all those pleasures of old age.

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  2. Can't think of a better way to go ... but still too young. Well remembered YP.

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  3. Suddenly living and suddenly not are peculiar things, well beyond my grasp.

    It's eighteen years since my mother died and eleven since my father died, and I still find myself wanting to talk to them and frustrated that I can't.

    Remembering them is all we can do for anyone washed downsteam.

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  4. Only this morning Ted came back from the village with the sad news that a traf. pol colleague of his had suddenly died.

    Every Friday night the routine when off duty, was for the bikers to meet in the pub. This guy stood at the bar and raised his pint to his lips, he fell, dead before he hit the floor. In true black traf. pol. humour. Ted's comment was 'It's an extreme way to get out of paying for your round!' He then said he couldn't think of a better way to go!

    Both my parents died suddenly my mother at age 48, my father at 70. I still miss them and wonder what they would make of their only child's crazy life.

    It never ceases to amaze me why when death happens we are all so blooming shocked.

    As you say no indignity of old age for your bro.

    LLX

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  5. Your brother looked like a fun guy to have a pint with.

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  6. Sir YP, like the bit where you say 'he was a good man'.

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  7. Remmbering Paul in your blog brings him to life for the rest of us.

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  8. He lives on in your heart and those of all his family, YP.

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  9. EVERYBODY thank you for your kind thoughts and Mr Hippo - he certainly was a good bloke to have a pint with. How many pints of Irish Guinness were guzzled down his neck - only The Lord himself knows. Dear Paul - you are not forgotten. Thanks for everything. Thanks for being you.

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