Tired, tired, tired

Crap!

I am fed up with feeling tired all the time.

I'm fed up with feeling depressed.

I'm fed up with feeling the grief over losing my little BiBi. It brings back memories and flashbacks of the other loved ones I have lost.

Just now it reminded me of losing my Uncle Mick. Who's he? Well, he was actually my cousin (Auntie Marie, Dad's eldest sister, accidentally got pregnant and gave birth in front of the fireplace in Nan and Grandad's house...she was such a big lady then that no-one knew she was up the duff! Nan brought him up, hence Uncle Mick.)

Uncle Mick found out who his real Mum was in the cruelest way. Nan died in the early 1970's, and as he was in the Merchant Navy he couldn't get back in time for the funeral. When he did get back (understandably upset), he apologised for not being able to attend. Grandad chose that time to tell him who he really was...

Grandad Kershaw was like that. Dad didn't like his Dad much, as a result of that and other things...

Not surprisingly, he went off the rails. Petty crime, drinking, stuff like that. He even 'borrowed' a double decker bus once and drove it back to base so that he would get back to the ship on time. Dad was the eldest brother and always felt like a father to Mike, but when Mike moved down to Portsmouth we lost a lot of contact with him.

We knew he'd got married and had a couple of kids down there.

Then in 1994 he came to Liverpool. Divorced, but turning over a new leaf in life, he was getting by, had a new job and was setting up a new home.

The last I heard, he was decorating a spare bedroom for his kids to stay in when they visited him.

Then we got the call.

It was Autumn 1994. One of Dad's brothers rang to tell us that Mick was dead. Murdered. Stabbed to death.

And who had done this terrible deed?

Mick's half-brother...my cousin Mark!

Auntie Marie had finally settled with one man. Uncle Rufus from Jamaica. They had one child, a boy called Mark who was a year or two younger than me. By all accounts, Mark was doing well, and was training to be a solicitor.

How had this happened? Mick had asked Mark to look after some money for him. After asking for a while, Mick came to Mark's home to ask what had happened to the money. There was an altercation, and Mick ended up being stabbed in the back. Mark went on the run, but was found in another cousin's house.

Apparently, in court Mark went through the most incredible contortions to try to justify how he'd come to stab Mick in the back. No-one believed him. He got 12 years.

He's out of jail now. Mick is dead.

And my Dad is dead. My Mum couldn't bring herself to break the news to Dad, so I had to. Have you ever seen anyone crumple up and age before your eyes? I did that very morning.

Dad was never the same again. He aged rapidly. Before then, he'd fought his many illnesses. After that, I think he was just marking time.

Dad died in Spring 1998. Auntie Marie had died in Spring 1995. Uncle Rufus was dead by the time of the trial.

R.I.P all of you. May you all rest happier in Heaven than you were on Earth.