Best Friends Forever

By

People say, "you don't know what you've got until it's gone" but the truth is, with Brad, I always knew.  The statement, "True friends are like diamonds, precious but rare..." is so, so very true and it was never lost on me, that Brad was one of my diamonds.
  
2012 was, undoubtedly, the worst year of my life and the final kick in the guts, just one day before it ended, was a phone call during which I learned my best friend had left this world.  I will never forget the crashing in my ears, the sinking pit in my stomach, my knees hitting the floor as my legs gave way, the unshakeable belief that every person I loved seemed cursed to die.  Life seemed hell bent on slamming me back to the floor again, every time I found my feet.
~

 To go back to where it all began, Brad was originally close mates with Dean, the biological father of my eldest son.  Early on in my pregnancy, when Dean and I were still together, Brad often looked out for me, ensuring I was eating enough and fixing bits and pieces on the heap of crap that was my car at that point.  After I left Dean, Brad and I kept in touch and often hung out.  He was wonderful with Lachan and he began calling him "Unc-Bad" (Uncle Brad).

 Our friendship was unique and precious.  Until Brad, I honestly didn't believe that opposite genders could be friends without one or the other wanting more... but being with him came as easily and naturally as breathing.

~

 We would regularly go late night shopping on Thursdays with Lachlan in the pram.  Sometimes Brad would try to pass him off as his own son, hoping the cuteness factor would work in his favour for picking up girls- it even worked on occasion!  

Other times he would run with the pram, making turbo noises and pretending to do burn outs as Lachlan giggled and squealed with delight.  Unfortunately one particular night a police officer patrolling the shopping centre didn't find it quite as amusing as the three of us did!  Brad apologised profusely for his behaviour and promised to be sensible.  

We then took the escalators to the lower floor and before long the pram was back in turbo mode!  To cut a long story short, when he was caught a second time by the same officer, we were escorted off the premises in stitches with laughter.  Brad and I were both only 21 at the time and still fairly immature.  That night will always be one of my favourite memories with him though.  

Another is an evening we were at my Mum's house having dinner and my step father, Joe was drinking sherry.  He offered some to Brad who took a small sip before downing the entire glass in one swig.  Joe refilled it for him and he downed the second just as hastily, only for it to be refilled a third time!  He later told me in the car that, "it tasted like shit" and he had been gulping it so fast to get rid of the foul tasting stuff but hadn't wanted to be rude or cause any offence by telling Joe that he didn't like it.  He was always such a polite gentleman.
~

I'll continue my stroll down memory lane because these are the stories I don't ever want to forget and they still make me smile:

Not long after my son, Christopher Jr. was born, I'd been at my mother-in-law's house for dinner and Brad had made a surprise visit to my house.  When I wasn't home he thought it would be a fantastic idea to hide in the bushes beside my driveway and wait for me.  After I'd pulled in, I sat in my idling car in the dark, waiting for the roller door to go up.  From the corner of my eye, I saw a figure dressed all in black with a hood pulled low over his face.  The menacing looking form leapt from his hiding place and slammed hard against my window!  I screamed with terror as I watched the hood being dramatically thrust back to reveal a familiar grin, wide as the Cheshire Cat's.  Relief flooded my body as I realised who it was but this was quickly followed by annoyance that he had very nearly scared me to death!

I jumped out of my car and slapped him!  He just laughed and pulled me into a hug.  My heartbeat was still loud enough to wake the dead and I found it far from funny at the time- I was well and truly pissed.  It was impossible to stay angry at Brad though and once the initial shock had subsided, I was able to laugh about it.
~

 Brad was a brilliant cook and he'd often invite me over for dinner or come over to my place and cook for Lachlan and I there.  One particular meal at his house sticks in my mind and the memory of it still makes me laugh out loud, even today!  After we'd  finished eating, Brad had gone to wash up the dishes like he always did, only to discover that there was no detergent!  We'd both been drinking and so were unable to go to the shops to get more.  Rather than simply leave them until the next day as I'm sure anybody else would have, Brad being Brad improvised- he washed them up using shampoo!  It was gross.... but hilarious at the same time!


I will honestly treasure our text message conversations for the rest of my life.  What a blessed gift technology can be when you lose a loved one in this day and age!  In one particular message Brad told me we were BFFL (best friends for life).  I responded with, "No, mate.  We're BFF (best friends forever) because forever is longer than human life."

How heartbreakingly accurate that differentiation became...
~

 When Chris (my deceased partner) and I found each other, Brad was overjoyed for Lachlan and I; after Chris's death and throughout my second pregnancy, he was also there for me to lean on and did his best to make me smile again on the bad days... which there were many of.  

When I really struggled and was beyond cheering up, he'd just sit with me in the dark, constantly reminding me I wasn't alone in my pain and never would be.  I lost count of the number of times he slept in my bed and just held me all night while I cried.   I always felt so safe with Brad, he was simply my best mate and the fact that we were opposite genders didn't change that... especially not when he'd come over and paint his nails with me, as well as try out all my make-up and dresses.  He was definitely very comfortable in his sexuality- I loved that about him.  

I always joke that if Brad had been alive when my husband, Pete and I got married, he would have been my bridesmaid- dress, nails, face, the works and he would have honestly loved every minute of it!
~

On the night of December 29th 2012, Brad tried to call me 7 times.  This, in and of itself, was nothing new or out of the ordinary- he was always drunk dialling me at ungodly hours!  That particular night my phone had been on silent and I didn't see the missed calls until the next morning.
   
"Must have been a good night," I thought, with amusement as I noticed there was a voicemail too.  I remember expecting something along the lines of ridiculous singing or his usual drunken banter but his words were pouring out fast and jumbled.... he was extremely emotional and worked up, not his usual jovial self at all.  I couldn't understand a single word he said and it still breaks my heart because whatever was in that voicemail was the last thing Brad ever said to me.  And he'd tried to say it not once, but 7 times....

 I tried to return his call immediately but it went unanswered.  I made another 6 attempts to total an even 7 to match how many I had missed the night before and by the last 3, he began hanging up on the first ring.  

I stifled a laugh, completely aware he would have been sleeping and no doubt nursing a killer hangover!  If I knew what was coming, I would never have given up at only matching his 7 calls.  I'm not sure I'll ever stop wondering if he would have answered eventually if I'd continued calling until he picked up...

~

 How well people can hide their demons....  Brad had always been the life of the party- always smiling, constantly cracking jokes, up for an adventure any time and above all, there for his mates, come hell or high water.  His words do echo in my mind with hindsight now- he often would say, "I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

 "All it takes is a beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul and they will never notice how broken you really are." ~ Robin Williams

~

 The night after my missed calls from Brad and his out of character voicemail was December 30th.  At around 10:30pm, Brad was in the middle of a road near his house on the Gold Coast and consequently, he was hit by a car.  He bled to death at the scene- my very best friend was gone, taking his life in one of the most senseless ways imaginable.  

I received the news the following morning- New Years Eve.  There was no need for any resolutions, 2013 had to be better.  It just had to be....

~

 My boys went to stay with their Nan (Chris's Mum) and I went out clubbing with Pete to see the new year in.  My heart hurt so very much and all I wanted was to be numb, to drink until I couldn't feel anything anymore.  Lord, did I still feel though-  I felt the floor of The Cube Hotel at 4am, I felt Pete's arms pick me up and carry me out of there when I couldn't get to my feet again, I felt the vomit violently spurting from my mouth for what felt like hours...

That was the night I learned there is no such thing as drinking until you can no longer feel... there is only drinking until you feel worse!
~

 Another cruel blow was yet to be dealt- in early January, 2013 at just 4 months old, my youngest son, Christopher Jr. was hospitalised.  He was diagnosed with human metapneumovirus and acute bronchiolitis and subsequently hooked up to a drip and oxygen.  A feeding tube was inserted when he became too fatigued to drink.
  
I was forced to make one of the toughest decisions of my life: stay in hospital with my dangerously ill baby or attend my best friend's funeral at the coast.  I thought long and hard about it but in the end, I knew I had to choose my son.  If anything had of happened to him and I was that far away from the hospital, I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself and I knew Brad would have understood.  He loved my boys and if the truth is only know, he was probably by our side a lot of the time in that hospital room.  We just couldn't see him there.



~

When mine and Pete's daughter, Porschia was born, Brad's beautiful mother, Linda made her a lovely keepsake pillow with a photo of Porschia printed on it and a message underneath reading, "Love from Bradly, an angel in Heaven."  I bawled when I opened it... Brad would have adored Porschia.  He was so good with kids and would have been an incredible father if he had of gotten the chance.


 Bradly, my irreplaceable, longest distance imaginable bestie, I pray that you are at peace now and that happiness lights up your soul like sunshine, as you smile down on all of us left behind.  Thanks for the memories, mate.  Save a seat at Heaven's bar for me, make sure the beers are cold and I'll see you when I get there.  Until then, you are forever with me, your name tattooed over my heart, pinning down a set of angel wings, a blue halo hovering above.  You were ready for those wings but I'll never be truly ready to let you go...  xo

      




google.com, pub-5896944412523933, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

'Til Death, did we Part

By
Image
TRIGGER WARNING: this post contains very graphic detail, which some may find distressing My eldest son, Lachlan, did not ever meet his biological father, Dean.  Their entire father/son relationship amounted to approximately 3 telephone calls throughout the time between Lachlan's birth in 2010, and Dean's untimely death.  This aside, Lachlan and I were both lucky enough to find an amazing man, who not only loved me more fiercely and passionately than I had ever known, but also loved my son as though he were his own—Chris—the first man I ever truly loved.   When Chris and I discovered I was pregnant, we were surprised but thrilled.  We had our first ultrasound at 6 weeks and I will never forget the look of sheer wonder, delight and adoration on Chris's face as he watched the screen and listened to our baby's heartbeat.   I recall thinking, this is how it's supposed to be —i t's going to be so different this time around — it's going to be perfect.....
Read more

Confessions of a Pro-life Mother: there but for the grace of God go I

By
Image
I have always been open about being pro-life. I know this is a sensitive topic but please hold off on lugging out the torches and pitchforks just yet. There is a heartfelt story behind my steadfast view. A few months ago an acquaintance accused me of unfairly judging my fellow women by being pro-life, rather than pro-choice.  I responded, 'I don't judge women who make that choice because, there but for the grace of God, go I.' She replied, 'So, you're pro-life but don't judge a woman for making a choice? I don't understand.' Well, what led me to be pro-life? That is the story that needs telling to answer her question. I was 20 years old when I learned I was pregnant for the first time. A few months prior, I fled from a toxic 2 year, on again/off again relationship, riddled with domestic violence and drug dependence. He was what I thought at the time was my first love. How wrong I was. I had no idea what love was then, but he was all I knew. I was dy...
Read more

Jimmy Crow of Crow's Nest, Queensland

By
Image
Crow, Jim (c. 1825—c. 1884) by C M Wormington Jim ‘Jimmy’ Crow (c. 1825—c. 1884), camp operator and Indigenous guide, was born in the 1820s, in the Darling Downs, Queensland (Kerkhove 2020). His exact birth and death dates remain unknown and, in addition, it is unclear whether Crow's surname was associated with his crow-like appearance or his moiety (Kerkhove 2020); in fact, many aspects of Crow's early life are disputed. This can most likely be attributed to his younger years having occurred in early Aboriginal times. Written history from these times is ‘…almost non-existent’ (McGreevy 2003, para. 1) and, because of this, there is a large gap in the documented facts of Crow’s life. This gap ranges from his birth, up until approximately his early 20s. Popular belief holds that the entire name ‘Jim Crow’ was given to him by the early settlers (Watson 2020), with his traditional birth name remaining a mystery; however, Kerkhove (2020) did not acknowledge this theory in hi...
Read more

Tales of a VBAC Hypnobirth

By
Image
Parts of this birth story are written in 'Hypnobirthing Language' which changes a lot of medical terms to gentler words. The medical terms are added in brackets the first time each is used. This story begins with the events that shaped my views of birth. In 2010 I gave birth to my first child. At two weeks overdue, I was induced and my labour was horrific, as were my postpartum complications. I now attribute this to the fact my labour was artificially induced. In December 2011, I fell pregnant with my second child. During the first trimester, my loving partner tragically passed away in our home during an epileptic seizure. Remembering how traumatic my first birth was, I didn't believe I'd cope, especially given the dark place I was already in. Instead, I opted for an elective C-section. Early in my final pregnancy, I discovered a place I now view as The Gold Standard in prenatal and postnatal care: My Midwives . I cannot speak highly enough of My Midwives and the ...
Read more

The Day the Virus Came

By
Image
We will never forget the year 2020.Countries shut down, children were pulled from schools, the stock market crashed, and unemployment hit a record high of 14.7%, the highest it has been since 1948 (Thompson 2020).  With this new world, birthed by a foreign virus, so too, came a surge in mental health and domestic violence crises. The global death toll is currently at 382,412 (Worldometer 3 June 2020) but the true statistics are likely much higher. The forgotten numbers are found in suicides of isolated depression sufferers, murdered children and partners forcibly quarantined in violent homes, and people with chronic illnesses, too afraid to attend critical medical appointments for fear of contracting the deadly Coronavirus.  Additionally, drug overdoses from relapses that may never have occurred had the addicts had access to their support networks and meetings, would further inflate the tally. Indeed, we will never forget the year 2020; the year the COVID-19 pandemic came...
Read more

For the Love of Difficult Children

By
Image
No parent signs up for children with behavioural or emotional disabilities. Heck, if it worked that way, none of us would. But oh, what a gift would be lost to this world. Difficult children grow into strong willed adults, champions of the causes they believe in; dream chasers, peacemakers, and driven entrepreneurs.  They are worth all the tears, sleepless nights, judgemental stares, and specialist appointments.   I was a difficult child; now I am raising one. I know you are exhausted, Mumma, but to your little boy, you are Wonder Woman , battling his demons and bringing calm to the chaos of his overwhelmed mind. Breathe—you've got this.   Dad, I see you struggling with the weight of working hard, only to come home to World War III in your living room, when all you want is peace and quiet.   To the single parent weeping in your car, after your daughter threw the mother of all tantrums in the supermarket, I think you are a rock star. ~  ...
Read more

An Open Letter to my Father

By
Image
Dear Dad, It’s been years since we last spoke. I was pregnant with my first child; you were sectioned in a psychiatric hospital again. I’d visited you there many times over the years, as a child and as an adult. I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I had to walk away.   My childhood seems like a good place to begin. I vividly recall you telling me at Family Court, right before you were stripped your parental responsibility and visitation rights, that I was strong like you. You told me this strength was what enabled me to endure and withstand all of the pain. That day was the first and only time I saw you cry. I remember how hard you hugged me; how tightly you clung to me. Your exact final words as I was escorted from the room were: 'God, I love you, kiddo.' What you may not know is that it wasn’t any perceived strength that allowed me to speak to you that day when my brother refused. It was the panic button located beneath the Family Report Writer's desk. That discr...
Read more