Huw Thomas Jenkins
When my brother Huw was born I kicked the wall. Since I already had one brother I thought another was surplus to requirements. However when it became apparent that my mother was not going to oblige by providing me with a sister I decided to make do. He was a quiet little thing, compliant, easy to boss around: Huw soon became ‘baby’ in my games and he would bawl and chortle on cue, much better than any doll. It didn’t last long of course - pretty soon he was charging around in khaki with a friend pretending to be an IRA terrorist, and I left him to it.
My brother had brown curly hair that one summer inexplicably grew so tightly curled it looked afro - something I regarded with envy. And brown-hazel eyes, but last time I saw them they looked green. I taught him to play the recorder. We used to kneel side by side playing duets. Soon he graduated onto the violin which he played with much talent, sweeping through grades until he was invited to join the National Youth Orchestra. He learnt the flute and piano and there seemed to be no stopping him. I thought that was what he would do, what he loved, join a great orchestra and travel but instead he followed my other brother into medical college and for a year everything was fine.
Seven years ago, at the age of 34 he married Yasmin after converting to Islam. Huw became officially Hussein and he said he had never been happier. He was still my friend, from time to time he would ring and we would talk and talk about our lives.
I cannot get used to the idea that he is not at the end of the phone any more. I thought he would always be there; he was, after all, younger than me. It is as though there is a big black hole at the corner of my eye. I am not looking but I know it is there.
I am writing this because when I googled his name nothing of him appeared and now something will.
My brother had brown curly hair that one summer inexplicably grew so tightly curled it looked afro - something I regarded with envy. And brown-hazel eyes, but last time I saw them they looked green. I taught him to play the recorder. We used to kneel side by side playing duets. Soon he graduated onto the violin which he played with much talent, sweeping through grades until he was invited to join the National Youth Orchestra. He learnt the flute and piano and there seemed to be no stopping him. I thought that was what he would do, what he loved, join a great orchestra and travel but instead he followed my other brother into medical college and for a year everything was fine.
Seven years ago, at the age of 34 he married Yasmin after converting to Islam. Huw became officially Hussein and he said he had never been happier. He was still my friend, from time to time he would ring and we would talk and talk about our lives.
I cannot get used to the idea that he is not at the end of the phone any more. I thought he would always be there; he was, after all, younger than me. It is as though there is a big black hole at the corner of my eye. I am not looking but I know it is there.
I am writing this because when I googled his name nothing of him appeared and now something will.
posted by Clare Dudman at 9:47 am
1 Comments:
Hi Clare
Thank you for doing the blog.
I know its no comfort and its not the same as speaking to Huw but I am at the other end of the phone if ever you need to speak about Huw or anything else. Speaking to you,David, your mum and dad gives me comfort. Huw would like to know we are all still in touch. When I read the blog it cheered me up to learn that Huw had said he was the happiest he'd ever been when we married. He made me very happy too and content. Huw's left a really big black hole in my life and I am reminded every minute, every hour and every day that he isn't here any more. Huw was a unique person and I loved him very much.
Yasmin
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