Monday, 12 February 2018

My Brother Cam Killed Himself And I Don't Write About It Much Anymore Because In Western Culture Grief Has An Expiration Date.


Uploading that photo of him (above) just then was uggghhhh. Rare these days that I ruminate on the utter shittery annihilation of his suicide but every once in a while it hits me like I hit the wall when he left.

He left. It wasn't right.

What if his t-shirt startup business fully cracked the market and become red-hot successful and he made a shitload of money? It didn't. He bid me goodbye after living with us for about a year in our big family home that is now up for sale. All those memories. Cam moved to the mines in Western Australia to make his fortune to impress a cold cold short-term snob girlfriend which didn't work and it was literally the last nail in the coffin. A coffin that got burnt in his non-attendance cremation anyway. (Hey do coffins go in the human oven too? Waste of money. Unless they get sneakily get recycled. Mmmm nom, shared human juices.)

"Ede, if she doesn't go out to dinner with me for my birthday I'll kill myself."

"Well sweetheart that'll grab her attention but .. you'll be dead? Just fucken stay, you never know what's going to happen. Life holds good stuff too. Promise."

A month later he was dead as a doornail and the day after he died when we saw his body on the slab in the morgue ... the coppers walked us outside. I'll never forget one of them said, "Ok, well have good day."

I was too stricken to say something Edenified like "Oh yeah we're having a GREAT day!" But now when I think of that I laugh, wryly. Dark stuff has got to be funny when you keep getting thrown dark stuff. It's the only way to cope.

Cams father was my stepfather and he mysteriously made this fuckload of money so we lived like kings and queens for almost a decade I mean we're talking Ferraris, Rolls Royce, fake Tudor-style mansion (new money lol.) Crates of Dom Perignon, trips overseas, diamonds. Sounds amazing, hey? It wasn't. At all.

The money was ill-gotten, my stepfather was busted for being a crook and instead of going to jail he killed himself good on you hypocritical cockhead. His death was a death knell for 8-year old Cam. Broke not just his heart but his spirit and I tried to keep him alive till I couldn't. I been parenting my three sons for years now what if my fuck-ups have impacted them and I can't keep them alive? I've never said that to anybody. We tend to keep our darkest fears in the dark for fear of bring them to fruition if we drag them into the light. Bring out the spotlights, I say. Better than bringing out your dead.

Cameron was under pressure to make money, be an alpha male, succeed, provide, be normal, get married career babies blah blah. He thought he failed. He didn't. He was the most kind, compassionate, sensitive guy. The patriarchy fucks men up too.

There's my post for today, welcome! And I don't care if it's too full-on. Life is too full-on. I doubled over and wept and wept for a while today because my beautiful baby brother is dead and it's shocking and it hurts. I often think "Well, I got over that!"

I won't ever get over that. And that is exactly how it should be.

(Hey you guys: talk to each other.)


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