I feel that I lived through the tail-end of the Troubles, but because of what happened in our house, I also felt the sorrow of the Troubles that others my age might not have understood.
Although Jim is my brother, he is also an absolute enigma. It’s strange to grieve for someone you have never met, but that’s the only way I can describe it.
I was six weeks old when Jim was shot dead in May. He was on his way home on a normal Ulsterbus on the Galliagh route to our house when he was shot through the window outside what used to be Fort George. He was shot through the neck and the bullet travelled downwards, severing his heart and lungs. That was five days before his 21st birthday.
One of the most poignant things I ever heard about Jim was my mother telling me that they had bought in all the food and drink for his welcome home and 21st birthday celebrations, and they had to use it for his wake.
A young soldier was prosecuted for Jim’s shooting. He said that he was cracking up and that he thought he saw a gunman on the roof of one of the buildings across the road. The court totally discounted that, though, because the trajectory showed that he could not have seen anything on those rooftops.
I do have to say, though, that as much hurt as Jim’s murder caused in the family, there was never, ever any bitterness. My mother, father and family were so dignified about everything. It tore my mother apart and tore the family apart at that time, but we were brought up to get on with things and to get used to what had happened.
Because I was so young, I was spared the horror of everything really. But even in my earliest memories, I can remember a feeling in the house, like sadness, a paralysis. It’s something I wouldn’t have understood back then, but I can see now on reflection.
I’ve always been very open with my children about what happened. I’ve told them how I feel. The way I feel is that I was robbed of a big brother – that is what the Troubles did to me. I don’t blame anyone really, it was a bad time and a bad situation, but there is no point me going through life feeling bitter. I’m not going to lie – I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m hurt, but bitterness is such a useless emotion. There is no point in it. It just eats you up.
It got easier over time. Even with a traumatic death like Jim’s, it got easier. We got on with it and learned to live with it. My mother never recovered, though.
She had a fantastic, huge pencil sketch of Jim on the wall that someone done and it was pride of place in our house. To me, he was this picture on the wall. My big brother was a pencil sketch that hung in our living room.
If people like my mother and father can remain so calm and dignified, we can too. They instilled such grace in us and I cannot thank them enough for that. We could very easily have got bitter and hated British soldiers, but what’s the point? You’re only destroying yourself from the inside out.
If the people in power would take the time and listen to the stories of ordinary people like us, they would see this. If we can move on, then they can too. At least today people are sitting down and talking. We’re not killing each other, and we are making strides forward.
Why couldn’t we do that years ago and I might still have had a brother?
An extract from Beyond the Silence, published by Guildhall Press and available for download, from Amazon, priced 99p
