Catching up with Kin and our Past

It’s strange how fate works and particularly it seems when you put temptation in its way. My twin, living as I told you in Worthing, has been unwell these past few weeks. We’d grown apart, separated by distance as well as divided by our chosen paths in life.

They say blood is thicker than water and sometimes these old sayings have more than an atom of truth. When summoned by his wife to pay a visit in case the worst should happen, how could I refuse? How could I resist the pleas of my sister-in-law when I know in my heart that my brother would be there for me were the tables turned? So with a heavy heart I left for Sussex, what they call Sunny Worthing.

I hadn’t intended to write about my twin in this blog since our lives are so different, but since the cards have been drawn I’ll tell you he was Christened Edmundo, though now he’s known as Ed as a more Anglo-Saxan version of his given name. To me though he’ll only ever be known as Edmundo. He’s a builder of course as I mentioned in an earlier blog, but currently he’s become more of a painter and decorator since the work became too heavy for his frail frame. He even set up his own business, called Worthing Painters and Decorators – so you can see originality and profound thought had never been one of his blessings!

Frail was how I found Edmundo when I arrived in the seaside town of Worthing. It’s not a place I’d visited before but pleasant enough with its sea front and Victorian pier. They say it was once a place to recuperate from tuberculosis and take the sea air but my twin looked as though he could do with more of a tonic than Worthing could offer.  He looked drawn, thin and wan though the doctors had been unable to determine what was wrong. Sometimes I think the tests they put you through at times like these are enough to make you feel bad and fear the worst. Certainly Edmundo was demoralised, though he was pleased enough to see his twin arrive unexpectedly.

I stayed two weeks and was pleased to see my brother improve during that time. We walked along the beach, threw stones in the sea and talked about our upbringing in the poorest areas and the gang life that surrounded us. Although he long ago moved away from such things, Edmundo seemed to need to talk about his early life and who else could share such conversation but me?  Perhaps he had guilt about the things we did as youngsters, though we were certainly no worse than others in our town.

We prayed together and our closeness once more seemed to make him grow stronger as our bond grew back. I suppose twins never lose that special attachment that can only come between those who shared a womb. In any case, I follow his progress and it’s been positive since my visit, which I was glad to hear. His painting and decorating is picking up and maybe he’ll even go back to building once his strength properly returns. After all, it’s in our blood to be builders.

And that visit made me think about my own life and where I go next. That’s a subject for another day but one thing is for sure – my family will always be a big part of my journey



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