Remembering again.

Fifteen years is a long time.
A lot can happen in fifteen years.

I wrote probably my most heartfelt one of these musings two years ago,on the thirteenth anniversary of my brothers passing. It's this time of the year, the third week of November that I dread. The run-up tot today,this Saturday I wish I never had to prepare for. Even the week leading up to it leaves a dark cloud. My now annual trip to mass coincides with it.

I pray the odd time but not for me. For people that are going through tough times or family members that aren't well. It's not even a prayer to a higher power as such but just sending good wishes to them,hoping things turn out alright. I stopped going to church when I saw this massive earthquake in Japan on the news. Hundreds of people died. What did they do to deserve that? Dad asked me why wasn't I going to mass and I just pointed at the tv. He couldn't really argue with that.

It's not easy going into that church on this, the third weekend in November. What am I saying,it's not easy for any of us. Relatives come back afterward for a bit,the kids keep me occupied but I prefer to retreat to my room and find some bit of solitude. It's not easy when the years fly. I was often told to always look forward and never look back in other scenarios but for this I have to look back. A few weeks ago was World Suicide Prevention Day and after work that day I went to the shop and bought a candle and a lighter (I hadn't bought a lighter since I used to buy single cigarettes in NewcastleWest when I was 15) and went to my room, lit that candle in the dark, put it on the window sill and looked at it for about ten minutes in silence. Until I bawled my eyes out. Someone tweeted it was like a light trying to bring them home and they were right. I cried a bit more and blew it out.

I miss him. Last year coming home for the mass I asked Dad to stop at the graveyard for a few minutes just to be there. We got out and went over. All I could think about standing there is why and why isn't he still with us now. It's painful and especially painful since then hearing stories about tragedies involving friends,people you grew up with, people you worked with, went to school with, what have you. I've had to make the call to people that was made to me. I've had to make that call on two seperate occasions and it's the worst call you ever have to make in your life.

I had most of this written last week when I had some quiet time and felt it was right to put thoughts to paper,or to screen in this case. Digital age,eh? I was told once upon a time to put thoughts down like this to get them out of you if they are pent up,I'm sure my GP would approve that I'm trying to dissipate my hypertension in any way shape or form possible. That's another story for another day.

I haven't written in a while, I suppose real-life has gotten in the way. But I shall end this story of remembrance with my brothers favourite song (that he would always request for on the radio) but with a country twist on it.

It might be 15 years but we are bringing it home for one evening.

Thanks for reading and always know there is someone always watching over you.