Dad was particularly fond of telling lies had a foul mouth using abusive language as if it were normal everyday speak. He was also very handy with his fists. He drank a lot coming home late at night usually in a foul mood. The weekends were the worst.
If we had defied him and he caught us watching TV instead of being in bed mum would get the blame. We made sure that would never happen unless we had forgotten about the time (it was not always just a threat).
For years and years as far as his drinking pals and other acquaintances were concerned he was the nicest man you could want to meet. He would do anything to help others. This was true outside the home he was well known for helping others.
At home what they did not know he was violent abusive nasty minded and handy with his fists he liked nothing better than picking on one particular brother. He was 2 years younger than me and often got a good thumping about the head.
I remember one time when I had to drag him off of my brother because I felt he was going to put him in the hospital. I was in my teenage years when this happened I had become much bigger than dad less afraid of what would happen to me.
I was expecting to get a belt across my back for interfering. I was taken by surprise when dad said he knew I was just protecting him. He just could not see what he was doing to my younger brother was wrong and I was trying to stop him hurting him and doing my brother serious harm.
Sadly I lost that particular brother many years later to a bleed on the brain that killed him outright. He was on the telephone to his wife telling her he was not feeling to well he had a terrible headache and was thinking of leaving work and coming home.
He never got to put the telephone down he died talking on the phone to his wife. An artery had bust deep inside his brain. We were told that even if he had made it to the hospital in time nothing could be done to save his life. His life had been cut short at 42 years of age.
Now many years later I have often wondered if all those years ago when we were kids did the slapping around his head he used to endure when we were young children have anything to do with his death many years later.
I still get upset when I think about my Bro. Not long before he died we had had a brotherly fallout over the use of my car. We had many an argument but always made up a few days later after we had cooled off.
Between my brothers and sisters, I always felt the closest to William. I hurt still we never got a chance to make up for our argument didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. He was on life support and already dead when I got to the hospital. Even now 2018 it still hurts. I still miss him always will.
Author: Laid Back Larry.
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