Once upon a time I belonged to a largeish family of six. My parents, 3 brothers and myself. My father died when I 19, some years later the middle brother committed sucide, destroyed my mother, who then, sometime later, was diagnosed with cancer and died within 3 months of that. Yesterday, my eldest brother, Kevin, called to tell me Peter has been found dead. He was the youngest of the 3 boys, and ten years older than me. So now there is only Kevin and myself. It seems so unreal, how can one family loose so many members?
I don't know the details of his death. Kevin was contacted by the police because Peter's neighbours had raised an alarm, they hadn't seem him at all for a while. Did Kevin know where Peter was, could he be out, on holiday? Unlikely, so the police broke down the door, or whatever they do to get inside a house, and found him. All I know is the police told Kevin it looked like Peter had been dead a while. How long that is, who knows. It's that which is playing on my mind, along with the obvious questions of why he's dead? Peter I use to be thick as thieves, but after mum's death we fell out and never talked again. He refused all overtures I made and eventually I stopped, if I were in Yorkshire I would pop by the house but he never once answered the door. And deep down I knew he would never forgive me, but you know, you hope, there's none now. Gods though, for no one to know, no one to be there. That is awful, poor Peter. He was a git, but damn he was my brother and I loved him. I keep imaging him laying there in that house, horrible visions and my heart aches for him so much.
Kevin has driven up, I assume he's on his way back to Hampshire, where he lives, now. I assume he will have made the formal identification; but then I wonder if he would have been able to, would they have let him see Peter? I wanted to go too, yet I couldn't, I have Rye to think about, I couldn't take him up there not knowing what state the house is in. I will go up, for the funeral of course. Another funeral, another blood relative to bury, to grieve for. When does it end? It doesn't, that's life, and it's shit, not always, but today, it's shit.
Ahhh Peter, what happened? Why are you dead?