A Long Time Coming!

Hello there, remember me?

I know its been a while since I last posted anything, about anything but such a lot has been going on, not just with The Tessellation Saga, but also with me personally. Lets see, when did I last post...

Yes, last year ago, definitely too long ago.

Anyway, since my last post when I was so ecstatic about being chosen as runner up in the MARSocial International writing competition and the awesome press mentions my life took a bit of a downhill spiral when my little brother Tom, sadly passed away. Talk about having the stuffing knocked out of me. I'm sure we have all suffered loss at one time or another and I know we all react to loss individually. There is no right or wrong way to mourn someone you loved. For me I took time going through old photo's, listening to his music, mostly the awesome, Pink Floyd and Bob Marley, and just generally crying to myself and feeling guilty that I did not do enough to help him. How I could have helped him more I have no idea as such a stubborn man never existed before.

The Golden Valley

I remember once when we were children my siblings and I were in a children's home called Hillgarth, in Hindhead, Nr Guildford, Surrey. (It's not there anymore, the powers that be have turned the beautiful old house and acres of wooded gardens into a housing estate, as they do!) After church on Sunday mornings we would go for long walks through The Golden Valley, a beautiful valley across the road from the house. I'm not sure if 'Golden Valley' is the valley's real name, only that's the name we called it. It's situated in the same area as 'The Devil's Punchbowl' which is well documented and a truly inspirational place to visit if you get the chance. Its situated on the London to Portsmouth road.

Those Sunday walks always went on for miles both up hill and down, usually following the blueberry bushes as we ate ourselves sick. One particular Sunday not far from the beginning of our walk Tom lost the sole of one of his favourite shoes. Not entirely mind, just three quarters of it, from the heel of his shoe to about an inch in it was still attached fast and no amount of pulling could loosen it. Not wanting to return to the house to change his footwear or to miss out on the walk, stubborn Tommy proceeded to walk the rest of the way around the valley flicking his leg out to the side and then in front of him letting gravity and momentum push the errant sole into the correct place as he trod. We walked for miles that day and each step Tom smiled and joked as he did his own version of, 'The Ministry of Funny Walks' (Monty Python). I can see him now, smiling and laughing. It was so funny.

Tom and his beautiful daughter Sylvie.

Tom never read, 'The Tessellation Saga' but I told him about the story and being a runner up in the competition and he said he was proud of me.
Last weekend I was taking his daughter, my niece, who lives in Ireland, to the cemetery in  Weybridge, Surrey, to see her dads grave and we were just passing the monument near to where we lived as children and I was telling her about her dads love of motorbikes. His favourite bike, among many over his long biking career spanning Harley Davison's to Kawasaki's was a 'Ducatti 900ss Mike Hailwood Replica, in original red and green. I have a lovely picture of my own daughter as a tiny toddler sitting astride the 'Duc' with Uncle Tom proudly holding her still.  

Anyway, we had to stop in traffic for the zebra crossing and what should pull up and stop right beside us but a Ducatti 900ss Mike Hailwood Replica in original red and green. I was so excited, it felt like Tom was still with us and he is, I know it. He lives in my memories and in the pictures I hold dear. Thomas Charles was stubborn, sometimes irritating, lovable and charming, kissing many a young lady on the hand at totally the wrong time and he always had a eye for the girls, even whilst lying up in a hospital bed but he was my little brother and I loved him dearly as did all our family.

Actually, its been quite cathartic writing this, I've tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat and I can hear Tom calling to me, telling me, 'not to be such a sap!'



I'll always love and miss you Tom, until we meet again.

Dede x