So I will use the following, my dead brother Roy.  Or if I feel like it, The dead guy.

My choice.  My page.
 
 

My brother Roy (see I already didn't use one of the about) committed suicide on the 5th of January 1998.

We really don't know why.

Does it matter???

NO.

I don't think so.

He had his reasons for doing it and it has to be as simple as that.  We may want to know why he did it but that doesn't matter either.  The fact is he did it and that's that.

Sounds a bit heartless, doesn't it.

Well I don't think so  (and as previously mentioned I do the thinking here)

My brother was wonderful.

He and I did not see much of each other and we were hardly what you would call close but I still think he was wonderful.
 
 That may shock some people.

As I said, we werent very close, but I like to think that in the end we were friends.

Something we had not been for a long time.

Ok here's the story.

Roy was a bit messed up when we were kids.

This is because he found out that dad was having an affair and he was told that he was not allowed to tell anyone.

So he had to come home everyday and look my mum and us kids in the eyes and not tell us.

When I was about 14 or so my brother chased us other kids out of the house throwing things at us.  Things like hammers and the like.

And the funny thing about this is I don't remember what started it.  Don't get me wrong, I have been told what started it but I just don't remember what started it.
It was all my fault, I am told.  I jumped on one of his truck models..  Trucks were his life.  He loved them until the day he died.
I am told by my sister and Roy's girlfriend that this is what started it.  I don't remember.

Well to carry on.

We were chased out of the house by my brother  (oh better fill in more details)

OK,  Dad was at his girlfriends (unknown to us) and mum was out of town working.  Just so you know why we were home alone.

Well when he chased us out we didn't know where to do.

Mum and dad didn't have a great deal of really close friends that us kids knew all that well.  Only Bob.

The only problem was that Bob lived about 20 kilometres from where we lived.

At the time we lived on the outskirts of Port Augusta.  Actually we were the furthest house out on the north side of town.

Bob lived in Stirling North.  Stirling North is about 16 kms from Port Augusta.  Dad's house is about 4 kms from Port Augusta.

A long walk.

Well it is a little more complex then that.

We decided that we did not want to walk anywhere where we could get picked up by dad.  So we took the long way.

I don't know how far it ended up being or how long it took to get there.

On the way my sister (who was about 8 or 9 at the time) made us (my younger brother and me) promise that we would not accept any rides with strangers.  So when we were offered a lift we said no.

Today I find that strange.  If it happened today the people would say ok and then call the police (I think), if they just didn't kill us first.  :)

When we got to Bob's place hours later, it was about 3am I think, we were to scared to knock on the door because we didn't want to get into trouble for waking him up at that time in the morning.  Silly really.

So we huddled together on the back step of his house (it wasn't very warm) and I gave my jacket to my sister to keep her warm.  I froze and didn't sleep while the other two did.

Some time later Mum turned up (after coming back from out of town and finding us missing, never did find out why dad didn't come looking for us) and took us home.

I have held this against my brother since then.

And the funny thing???

HE THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY!!!!

His girlfriend told me that he talked about it all the time and thought it was funny.  The funniest thing he had ever done.

Now that I find funny.

The way two people look at the same thing and see different things.

As I said before I held this against my brother for years (and I think to some degree, I still do) and we were never close after that.

We talked to each other and did things together but we weren't close.

However I still think he is wonderful.

He made the most of his life.

Actually I have never thought of that before.  However he did.

He got married.

To a girl I know he loved with all his heart.  It nearly tore him apart when they got divorced.

He and his wife had a kid, Boyd John Jenkins.  My nephew.

They got divorced not long after he was born.

He met a couple of other women that he fell for and while some were good for him, some weren't.

And then he met Naomi.

He told me that he met Naomi while trying to get on with one of her friends.  She had other ideas.

Naomi was only 15 years old.

However they loved each other.

I saw that the first time I met her.  Roy bought her to met me at my place in Adelaide and Naomi and I spent a couple of hours picking on him.  :)

Now before people start going on about Naomi being underage.   Shut up.  They were in love and that was that.

Mind you that didn't stop me and my friend referring to her as "Child".  Mainly because I couldn't remember her real name most of the time.

Well they settled down and started living together (this impressed her family) and had a kid as well.

Joshua.  Funny I don't even know if he has a middle name.

Naomi's Mum and Dad adored Roy.

Naomi's sisters and brother adored Roy.

Most people did.

He was a likeable person.

I last saw Roy just before Joshua's first birthday.  About 10 months before he died.

We had a good talk about things and it was great.

If you have read this journal from the beginning you will know that I am gay.

Well Roy has not always dealt with that in the best of ways.

However when we last talked he told me that he was happy that I had met my boyfriend and we had settled down.

He had finally come to terms with it.  I was overjoyed.

The one regret I have now is that Lance never got to met Roy.

I am sure that they would have gotten on well.
 
 

When Roy killed himself I didnt cope well.  I went hysterical.

And after I had come to terms with it, all I wanted was a picture of the first model he had ever made.

Writing this I wonder if this is some repressed memory survacing about jumping on his model (I have to believe it happened) and the guilt of doing it coming to bear.  I don't know.
 

I now have a picture of Roy hanging on my family room wall and am proud to have it there.

Goodbye Roy.  I hope you are finally at peace and you are resting well.

I love you.

Warren.