Rethink siblings

My father died on Chrismas day, while eating a last piece of chocolate that I had given him and bent over double while I did the hoovering. He was an alcoholic, but I also had a mother with schizophrenia  and experienced the aftermath of her suicide; the bullying as an outsider at school and an eating disorder. I have so much to write but I don't think a blog is the place for all this. So this blog is primarily about my brother - lets  call him Arthur - who is a light-speed runner and is currently homeless.

Yesterday afternoon I went to see my sister, as I do most Sundays. When I arrive we hug, kiss. She does a funny dance move that suggests she’s glad to see me. I’m glad to see her.

When my 89-year-old father died, in 2006, my life changed completely. He’d taken care of my older sister Barb, who had as yet undiagnosed schizophrenia, for over three decades. She had returned home at the age of 31, after living an independent, full and somewhat glamorous life.

It’s been a while now since there was any darkness weighing down the corners of my life. I’m enjoying the normal everyday aspects of university life, friendship and family visits, and I am flying high, feeling excited and intoxicated by a new relationship. I guess that because for the moment, it’s just me, it is only me that I see.

In my last post I told you it would get better - things had reached their worst for me and my sister following her latest hospital admission. I felt like it was important to be honest about how bad things could be but nothing stays the same for long, and thankfully we're all coming around.