The theme for this weeks Gallery is A family story
Interesting.
This is my brother.
The last picture is my brother with my real father (as opposed to Stepfather)
So let me tell you a family story. This is obviously very sketchy in some of the details.
My mother was born with a form of Spina Bifida that meant she had a hole in her spine. The problems she suffered as a child were put down to growing pains but when she gave birth to me and my brother, who is nearly 2 years older than me, they realised there was something serious going on.
When I was about 3 my mother ended up in hospital because of this.
At some point during her time in hospital my father (pictured above) got together with my stepmother. She moved in and my mother was kicked out.
My brother and I lived with my father and stepmother until I was about 9. She didn’t like us. We were neglected and hit often. It wasn’t fun. We saw my mother very little. In fact, the first time I saw her after the split I didn’t know who she was.
As we got older my mother met a new man who would later become my stepfather. We went to stay with them occasionally.
Then one year, when I was about 9, we went to stay with them and we never went back. From that point onwards we lived with my mother and my stepfather.
My brother and I could have been united by the experiences of our early years but we were not. He disliked me and used to threaten to punch me many 1000’s of times (typical kid stuff) if I did something he didn’t like or spoke when he didn’t want me to. We didn’t share toys. If we went anywhere together I had to walk some way behind him. To him I was never anything more than an annoying sister that he didn’t want around.
When we moved in with our mother we lived as separate lives as is possible at that age. My father disowned us and didn’t have anything further to do with us. In later years, my brother would visit him and they would chat. If I tried to visit him I was sent packing sharpish.
Life was no better living with my stepfather and mother. My mother was ill and limited, and my stepfather was a bastard.
Still, my brother and I never really pulled together to support each other.
We moved back to Wales when I was 10 or so and life carried on as it had always done. Then, shortly before his 16th birthday my brother ran away from home, down to London. My parents went to get him and brought him back.
But now he had learnt what he needed to do. He waited until after his 16th Birthday and ran away again. This time they didn’t bring him back.
I never forgave him for running away and leaving me. Given our relationship there was no way he would have taken me with him, but I always wished he had.
He stayed in touch with my mother occasionally and every now and then he would visit. He had a tough time. He always wanted to be a punk and has been ever since he left home. He has been on drugs since then and has had a few close shaves for sure. But he is one of life’s survivors and no matter what happens he always seems to come through ok.
A good number of years ago he got in touch with me. He said family was the most important thing and he tried to reconnect. I have tried for many years to accept that connection, but family isn’t important to me, and he abandoned me leaving me to deal with everything on my own.
A few years back I went to his wedding. It was unique and I made a unique cake to go with it
I have a wonderful family and an amazing life now.
I have also found acceptance of myself and learnt to be happy in my life.
One day, I might try and help him do the same thing.
This was all put together for this weeks gallery over at sticky fingers where the subject is "A family story"
