My brother was involved in a hit and run accident yesterday evening, during which a large, ex-BT van cut directly in front of him, in front of numerous eyewitnesses. Jake slammed into the side of it, and the van drove on, without a care in the world, the driver evidently trying to ignore the stupendous thump which caused a large dent in the driver’s side panel.
For those of you who don’t know, my brother takes his cycling very seriously – proper racing bike, cleated shoes and pedals, helmet, gear. He’s an exceptional road user, visible and responsible.
Obviously, they haven’t caught the driver, but if my Dad has anything to do with it, they will.
And when they do…
…
Jake left hospital last night. He had miraculously (more or less) survived with a discolated shoulder, serious bruising and nothing more serious than that. The main damage was to his bike and his favourite racing jersey which they had to cut off him.
…
Jake and I haven’t spoken since Boxing Day last year.
Despite having had a close upbringing and thinking of eachother as friends as well as siblings, we have fallen out and not spoken for some time before; I don’t think it is that uncommon really, it’s quite normal to clash with someone so close to you, and the age difference of 2 and a half years sometimes isn’t enough, almost. This time we’ve fallen out over his choice of girlfriend. Some of you already know how I feel about her so I won’t go into it again, but it’s just such a sad fact that she’s come between us. I have tried, perhaps too soon, to heal the rift, but neither of them are ready yet and she in particular has greeted my efforts with such disdain and cruel words I was left wishing I hadn’t bothered.
When Dad called me last night to tell me that Jake was in hospital, my heart very literally jumped into my mouth. I guess that is the measure of blood-ties – even though the ground may be unstable and the situation very much shit, when the worst happens, none of that matters. All that matters is love.
My second instinct was “Someone should tell [her]“. I told my Dad and said I’d call her to let her know what was going on. He thought that was a good idea, as no-one else was going to be able to except me. He went back inside the A&E department and I called her. No answer. No big surprise really. I left a voicemail. No response. I waited a while and then sent a text. She called, quiet and cold, got the facts and my Mum’s mobile number and told me she would pick up his best mate from the Academy in Warsach was driving down there to see him. Almost as an afterthought, she offered me a lift. I thought about it, and in all seriousness, I didn’t know what use I could be – Mum and Dad were there already, with those two on the way, he wouldn’t need me to crowd him. I thank her and explained why I wasn’t going, and we left it at that.
And then, over the course of a few hours, the guilt set in. Then the feeling of uselessness. The frustration. Much, much later Dad called again and told me they were all home, safe and sound. She was still there, generally being the Ice Queen she usually is. I told Dad that I felt bad I wasn’t there, and he said I’d done the right thing in letting her know, and not coming, I’d done the best thing and that they loved me very much for having been mature about it. He was right, really.
But it was a bit too late, I was already upset. Hating myself for making a drama out of it, feeling bad, feeling overwhelming relief that it wasn’t as serious as everyone had first thought.
I texted a number of you (and non-bloggers), at a fairly ungodly hour I know, reaching out despite the last disastrous time I tried that. And oh dear God, you all came back to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I apologise for having worried the pants off some of you, but rest assured that I am OK, and that there wasn’t a repeat of my Emergency Room slice and dice antics of a few weeks ago – by that time I was a little overwhelmed with sorrow…I don’t exactly know where it all came from, but come it did, in great, suffocating sobs and big, fat tears.
Today, I feel so much better. I’m glad that Jake is OK; I’m pleased that I have such wonderful friends; I still feel sad about what is happening with my brother, and her, but I can’t change it so I have to get used to it. I also got this wonderful email from my Dad, which I shall sign off with for now; I think there’s some good stuff in there for all of us:
“Just me; couldn’t sleep last night cos’ of all this but still couldn’t get here before 8:30; you know the way it is, laying awake watching the clock in case you oversleep then fall asleep with sense of relief cos’ you made it to daybreak. We are looking forward to seeing you at the weekend and understand your anxiety; brothers are blood brothers and you two had a close upbringing – hard to let that closeness go now, hard to accept that you are both growing inexorably apart as individuality and the intricacies of separate lives increasingly encroach. But you can, and will do this in the fullness of time – you’ll eventually find a new sort of relationship which will carry you forward in the rest of your lives. So take heart and trust to good fortune”
