Life #7: Social Kinfolk
This chapter recollects the lives and events of my extended family, past and present.
Many thanks for the support of my siblings as I wrote it, and to all the family for the love and memories we have shared along the journey.
I fear I would have been buried alive
If my alpine rescuers hadn’t arrived
Precious years since weathered
Rope no longer tethered
But kinfolk never knew, of the fall I survived
I’m drawn to memories, of my father and mother
And the challenging lives, of my sisters and brother
Their own tribulations
Crevasse situations
When we fell, but couldn’t be there for each other
Mum suffered seven years, with Parkinson’s Disease
Died far too young, in her early seventies
But Dad lived too long
Health and friends had all gone
Visiting him was mixed, with remorse and unease
For over four years Dad, kept himself to his bed
Only got up each Christmas, because Aunt Shirley said
I’d say, ‘see you next time’
‘I hope not,’ his final line
Dad frankly wished then, he was already dead
I recall our shared room, my big sister and me
Back then we would chat, about what we will be
Our old house on the farm
Was small but had charm
With veranda views, to the Mount and the sea
But as the eldest child, in our family entity
Bev fought for her independent identity
Then her emancipation
A career in education
Teaching was Bev’s passion, her defining destiny
Parts of Bev’s past, she’s committed to history
Some missing years remain, shrouded in mystery
Tucked under a cloud
She’s private and proud
While our bond will forever, be brother and sisterly
Then Steve arrived, on my fourth birthday
We collected him and Mum, from the hospital bay
I remember that time
My brother became mine
The nurse asked, do I want him, to take home and play
When still a boy of sixteen, Steve ran away
On the floor in my bedroom, he came down to stay
Hitchhiked to Dunedin
In his quest for freedom
The long walk to what Steve, has achieved today
I also think of Linda, our much younger sister
In her formative years, I’m afraid I missed her
We had all left home
She had to grow up alone
I’m sorry I wasn’t around to assist her
For in Linda’s early teens, that was the start
Of our parents’ marriage, falling apart
Dad drank too much beer
Way beyond repair
But us siblings stayed tight, entwined at the heart
Close cousins, aunts and uncles, complete our throng
Christmas gatherings were more, than two score strong
On Mum’s side the Joneses
And Dad’s pride of Holmeses
But sadly our forebears, have now passed on
And my beautiful cousin, when way back when
Had cerebral palsy, no quality care then
She could never talk
She would never walk
Poor Debbie didn’t live, past the tender age of ten
The last aerogramme Grandad Holmes wrote to me
Said he was booked in, for a replacement knee
Never wrote another letter
For he never got better
Had a stroke as a result of the surgery
Nana Holmes’s arthritis, was cruelly debilitating
Her hands gnarled and twisted, and body aching
This lady full of care
Confined to her wheelchair
The hard toil on the farm, was Nana’s unmaking
I joined Grandad Jones, on one of his last walks
Abby on my shoulders, and away we would talk
Said he hoped he would see
Olympics in Sydney
He died in 1999, unfortunately fell short
The last time I visited my dear Nana Jones
She was lying in her bed, in the nursing home
She didn’t recognise me
Incoherent, hard to see
I choked back the tears, when I left her all alone
We’re a family from farmers, to parish preachers
Accountants, curtain hangers, businesses and teachers
When our grandparents died
They passed on with pride
Olympians, managers, miners, drivers and baristas
These reflections on kinfolk, from so long ago
Cut from the same cloth, different strings to our bow
Our family extended
With loving unended
Yet I wonder if everyone … had a fair go
Kevin Holmes • 6th February 2023
