Dom

Despite the many thousands of pictures that I take, until very recently I have only had this one picture in a frame. It was taken in Brighton on the day of Dom's graduation in 1996.
My big brother, three and a half years older than me.
I was a model pupil at school. Always in the top set, sailing through GCSEs, A-Levels, a year off, then University and a 2:1 in three years.
Dom took a more circuitous route. The life and soul of the class, more interested in friends and fun than studying. He left under a bit of a cloud, hardly a CSE to his name. A year at catering college in Oxford, a spell as a chef, starting work as a care assistant, a couple of Summers at Camp America, a year in Plymouth doing an Access Course and then acceptance to University in Brighton to do Sociology and getting his degree a couple of weeks after me.
He did it the hard way and was rightly so proud of his achievement.
He so loved Brighton he stayed on after graduating. He lived next door to Lou from Eastenders and would laugh at her giant bloomers on the line. He had a girlfriend he adored, lovely friends, a job he was amazing at in a care home. He was one of the funniest, silliest, larger than life people I knew. Always in touch with his flamboyant side he had huge floppy hair, loved a bit of black eyeliner, rocked his long leather coat and trilby hats. He loved Prince. He couldn't hold his drink at all as he demonstrated on several visits to me in Cardiff during the Five Nations weekends. I lost him for hours several times but he'd always make it back eventually in one piece, often with a portion of chips and always with his huge, happy smile.
In the early hours of New Year's Day in 1997 I had a call from his friend Mr J to say that Dom was in hospital and I should get down there as he wasn't expected to make it through the night. My mum and dad were in New York so I had to ring them at the hotel and they had to get home.
It was 1997 so there was no internet, no mobile phones, no easy way to get to Brighton on New Year's Day.
I got a train eventually and made it down to the hospital where he was, thankfully, still alive. He'd suffered a massive stroke. In Casualty they'd assumed he was drunk or had been taking drugs as he'd collapsed in a night club so he'd been left a bit before thankfully a doctor noticed the signs and took a bit more action.
Months in hospital, a year in rehab learning to walk and talk again. He went from only being able to make 'bob bob' sounds to being able to speak. If I could go back in time I'd train as a speech therapist because what a gift to give people their voices back. He eventually moved back down to a flat in Brighton and got Harry, his beautiful special springer spaniel. It wasn't the life he should have had but he was lucky to be alive at all and - for the most part! - appreciated it.
In 2010 he decided to move up to Cwm Penmachno, the valley full of so many happy childhood memories. His little cottage is beautiful, at the end of the valley with amazing views and the river at the bottom of the garden. Peace and space. Dom loved it.
We took the Little Misses up for some wonderful holidays over the years. Dom loved seeing them in the river, building dams, decorating trees in the quarry for Christmas.
Recently, for reasons I don't really understand and now have to live with, we hadn't been up. There would always be time I thought.
Mum called this afternoon to say Dom was having some of his usual severe gastric problems and had asked them to go up. It must have been bad because he hates asking for help. Mum got there to find his friend had called an ambulance and they’d taken him in.
Mr K’s phone rang at 7.15pm and, seeing it was my dad, passed the phone to me assuming it was because I had no signal on mine.
Dom had died. And my poor dad had to tell me rather than Mr K.
It doesn’t matter how many times I say it, think it or write it, it still doesn’t seem possible.
And my poor mum. I can’t even begin to imagine. To grieve for your son, and the life he should have had. Twice.
But he was happy. He had a full life, made so many incredible memories, both before and after his stroke - Nepal, Zambia, Watford, Norway, days out in London, Kenya, Amtrak round America, Inter-Rail round Europe, Alton Towers (I wonder if mum ever found out why he and Jason really missed the bus!!!), Amsterdam, Berlin, triumphant Play-Off finals at Wembley and the Millennium Stadium, Peru. Learning to drive - after his stroke! - and getting his car. The freedom it gave him.
He loved Harry and now River. He had friends in the village who loved him and are devastated at his loss and the hole he leaves.
He came to my wedding when I wasn’t sure he would and looked so handsome and enjoyed the day so much. See extras.
He loved his nieces and was so proud of their every achievement. He loved to buy them as many sweets as possible and thought it was hilarious that it made mummy cross!! I wish he could have seen them grow up.
I’m so glad I had such a lovely walk with him in the woods the other day. He loved it there.
I didn’t spend as much time with him as I should have so our guardian angels intervened and made sure we had that last lovely time. And just the two of us.
He’s my big brother and I can’t believe he’s gone.
Sleep tight Dom x