Big Brother

My eldest brother, he was the one who started my interest in my mum’s unknown family. His blunt history lesson he gave me within an hour of me saying goodbye to my dad in the chapel of rest wasn’t the ideal time for him to unburden himself, I am still angry about the way he told me.

It wasn’t so much a chat more of an aggressive outpouring. He justified it, by suggesting it might help explain who I am?

Almost three years to the day I discover the bit he hadn’t told me, the bit he’d left out. Whether this was deliberate by him or not I’ll probably never know.

His behaviour towards my mum’s family changed, something triggered that, being number one son comes with responsibility, something he’s rarely lived up to. His relationship with my dad was often sparky, almost a mutual dislike.

Having discovered the missing piece of this puzzle I had an urge to confront my brother and let him know I’d found the evidence from his cryptic clues in August 2011.

I’m convinced he not only knew this but took pleasure in not telling me, no, not a big brother protecting his younger brother from something nasty, more a big brother playing head fuck.

I took a train to Romford and was walking to his workshop to inform him I had the information that he probably thinks he could tease me with in the future. The word cunt is too tame a description of what I now feel for him.

No doubt the family grapevine will deliver the gossip that I’ve been delving about, if it hasn’t already done so I’d be amazed.

People harp on about how great it must be to come from a big family, if that’s the case why do I feel so alienated from it?