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A beep woke me at 5.45 this morning. I thought it had come from my clock which had not been commanded to do any such thing, so I thumped it and had almost dropped off again when a second beep occurred.
The phone. Really?
Abandoning the idea of sleep, since now Muffin was awake and demanding food, I picked up the phone to see who the pest might be.
Annoyance left me as I discovered that my niece was sending family photographs to my brother in Cyprus. It is his 80th birthday and he is alone, far from any family, battling cancer.
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Using WhatsApp, my niece in England had got hold of her brother in Australia and now she had hooked up with me in New York, so the four of us were in instant communication.
While I am not a great fan of modern technology, one has to admit that this is pretty impressive.
The photo stream has continued all day, a real history beginning with a picture of infant Peter.
Because we were separated as children, we ended up living on different continents. He married very young and had a family whereas I remained single.
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With a busy career and young family, Peter had little time for staying in touch.
So we have lived very far apart, though always enjoying the few times we’ve been able to get together.
Now that he is on his own, Peter and I have exchanged frequent emails and we’ve had the chance to compare notes, which has been interesting!
It’s hard to describe such a relationship.
When I was sent to the States, Peter was 19. I am three years younger. He had an apprenticeship with a bank in London applying to go overseas. In 1965 he got a posting to Zambia.
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Peter had been more or less adopted by his girlfriend’s family. For Diane to accompany him to Zambia they needed to be married, which they planned anyway but being only 20, Peter needed permission.
This was nastily denied. Not, principally because of Peters age, but because my parents did not approve of his girlfriend.
Having abandoned him to boarding school when he was 11, it’s hard to see how they could object to his finding happiness elsewhere.
In New York, I knew only the bare basics, but was furious with my parents. Having no funds, I was unable to attend the wedding a few months later, permission no longer needed.
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It was my mother’s two younger sisters who took charge of Peter and I. My aunt Win was devoted to my brother, but all her life she was plagued with terrible timing.
The day of his wedding that she was very excited about, she had instead to attend our grandmother’s funeral.
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Peter went off to Africa to begin a long career and my parents heard nothing from him until my mother went to see him when returning herself from Madagascar in 1971.
By then, she had become a grandmother although she did not want to be known as such. My nephew refers to her as Willis which is how everyone addressed her, except me.
For the rest of her life Mum, regretted allowing my father to write that letter. She said more than once:
“We made a mistake with Peter.”
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It never occurred to my parents ever, that I had less than a charmed life. Because they never asked, not once, how I enjoyed living with my aunt and uncle.
I adored Kay. He tormented me.
It doesn’t matter now, but life was unnecessarily difficult, the hardest part being that it was never acknowledged.
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With my parents and my uncle gone, I no longer held out for acknowledgment. It was like having a weight lifted.
All the years of therapy had never helped figure that out.
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If I hadn’t been so screwed up in the head, with airline travel benefits, I could have gone to visit my brother and his family, but I’d come to think of myself as a nuisance and I was afraid because I’d stayed in touch with our parents, Peter and Diane might think I was stuck up too.
Our parents separated us more than just geographically. With limited means of communication then, it is no wonder we became virtual strangers.
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Peter had a rewarding career and a loving family. After my sister-in-law died prematurely in 1999, he re-structured the plans he had made for retirement and began cruising, which is where he met a new partner who made him very happy.
Now, sadly, she has Alzheimer’s.
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These past few years, Peter seems to have lost so much, not that he ever complains, not about the really important stuff.
Traffic, airline travel, the British climate, such things cause him to moan!
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c 1950
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Maybe 1955, the year before Peter went to boarding school in Ipswich and I went with our parents to Cambodia.
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One of the few times we were together afterwards.
Somewhere on Long Island, 1980’s perhaps.
We have always been pleased to see each other.
The stream of photos is continuing. Lots of memories for Peter and I’m sure much nostalgia. His family can’t be with him today, but I’m so glad that he’s been able to get live messages and to know that we are all thinking of him.
Definitely one of the positive benefits of the much-maligned social media, being able to contact relatives and share photos and memories. Happy Birthday to your brother, and I feel sad that he is alone and unwell as he celebrates it. (And I don’t even know him)
I also feel sad about your family story, though that is none of my buusiness of course. But it seems you were cheated out of much, although you got to experience things the rest of us were only imagining. Apologies if I that seems rude.
Best wishes, Pete.
Not rude at all Pete. I was angry for a long time mostly because I was misjudged. My brother had a lot that I would have liked but the more you have the more you stand to lose, you know? I am thankful for things I did have that I might not. Thank you for caring.
Thank you, Carolyn, for your fascinating family memories, and the photos. Beautiful study of the sky!
Joanna
Happy Birthday Peter. I reckon Philip Larkin was pretty accurate with “This Be The Verse”.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48419/this-be-the-verse
Ah yes, indeed!
Oh my goodness. So much is here.
Love to you.
Is your brother’s birthday on 10 January? That’s also my birthday 😊. And even though I don’t know Peter, my birthday wish for him is health and I’ll keep him in my prayers. Such lovely photos of you – and precious memories.
Belated happy Birthday! Peter’s was on the 11th.