More memories of Andrew!

This time of year I always get tense about Andrew being dead. I use the word tense deliberately even though it may be an odd word to use, but it describes how my mind feels.

Since Andrew died I have had a recurring nightmare. In it I always have the chance to save him and I choose not to, or wasn't able to - it varies. Sometimes I couldn't and sometimes I wouldn't. Either way I wake up breathless, angry and upset. 

Initially this happened every night, then three or four times a week and now only occasionally around his birthday and the anniversary of his death on 7th July. About two weeks ago I started having the same dream and the same feelings again. 

Now familiar with the pattern of the grief I have taken to comforting myself with happy memories. Of course I wish Andrew was still alive, but the cold brutal fact is he isn't, and I want to be - and am - grateful for the fun times we had. 

I am writing these for two reasons - who knows how long I will remember them. And by writing them down they remain in perpetuity and also because I have been heartened by messages from people saying it helped them think about mining and writing down their own memories. We know there is little written about sibling death, sibling grief and by extension sibling memories. I hope to start changing that. 

Some of the memories that have made me smile over recent weeks;

1. I was about 6 years old. My glee as he taught me a rude song which ended with 'playing the willy banjo'. Mum was having a bath and he told me to sing louder. I got my mouth washed out with soap. He watched and laughed hard. 
2. We got matching BMX bikes for Christmas. He chose the blue one so I had the red and yellow one. We went for a bike ride and half way round he decided he wanted the red bike. I wasn't bothered either way, I was still stunned we both had BMX bikes. He fell off and scratched the red bike and then decided he wanted the blue one after all. When we got home I said I had scratched my bike. I was so proud that I didn't snitch even when I was really told off. 
3. We went to America with our next door neighbours when I was 7 - our first big holiday. We hired a Winnebago and drove along the East Coast. Andrew was 11 and Louise (neighbour) was 7. As we pulled into a campsite one night, I was asleep and woke up to hear Andrew and Louise planning to go swimming. I got up to put my swimming shorts on. Andrew told me I couldn't go because it was dark and I was too young. I told him Louise was younger than me. He told me that wasn't true in Virginia. I believed him. 
4. Same holiday - he spent the whole time treating me like I was 7 and he was 11 (Imagine how irritating I would have been). We were at the Everglades and he got stung by a bee or a wasp or something. I was so smug I almost believed I had made it happen. 
5. We went on a PGL adventure holiday at Grittleton House when I was 8 or 9. He was supposed to look out for me. I was in a different dormitory than Andrew and a boy who I remember we called the jolly green giant was really horrible to me - well he stole my sweets at bedtime. I went to find Andrew. He was kissing a girl called Lindsay from Dorset and I tried to tell him. He threw a packet of refreshers at me and told me to p*ss off . The next day I said I was going to tell Mum he hadn't been nice to me. He kneed me in the 'hurties' really hard and told me I would be chewing on them, not refreshers, if I told Mum. (For clarity: I no longer call my genitals the hurties).
6. Madonna released Like A Virgin when I was 10. I asked him what a virgin was. He told me it was to do with sex, that I wasn't a virgin and he was.  
7. About the same time as discovering I wasn't a virgin (!) I had a coconut shell money box with balsa wood legs. Andrew was looking after me in the summer. He caught me playing either his T'Pau record or That's What I call Music 10 tape and was cross. As he came to punch me I picked up the money box and threw it at him. It caught his lip. Badly. I took my leave very quickly. When he found me sat around the back I expected to be punched and flinched; instead he said, 'what are we going to tell Mum'. We made up a story that he had slipped over on ice. Another one where Mum was sensible enough to shrug say 'I wasn't born yesterday' and walk away.
8. Highermead (again) - 14 year old me was one of the very few blokes to dance. And after a few ciders I would dance very exhuberantly - particularly to Yazz (The Only Way is Up) and the Weather Girls (Its Raining Men).  Andrew advised me that people would think I was gay if i danced.