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It’s hard in a way hearing people have great memories of Brad before drugs took over his life.
I am 6 years younger than Brad and I only have a few good memories of my childhood with him, but I guess because there are only a few, they are very special.
I remember when I was young, Brad and Julie-Anne would ask mum for something to eat and if they were told know no, they would come up to me and ask if I felt like chips or chocolate or whatever they asked mum for and I would say that it sounded nice and that I’ll have some too. They wouldn’t tell me that they already asked and would tell me to go ask mum if we could have some. I would then get in trouble for asking and Brad and Julie-Anne would be laughing. Mum was onto it pretty quick and would tell me to tell them “good try”. It didn’t matter how many times they did this I was still so gullible.
Another memory is when Brad and Julie-Anne said that I was the Milkman’s daughter because I had blue eyes and blonde hair (they were quite mean really). I started to believe them until mum showed me my birth certificate. Now that I think about it, it’s probably their fault that I am still so gullible and have ‘blonde days’.
I fell off my bike when I was about 9 or 10 and Brad came running out of the shed to help me. I was crying and he helped me up, I still have the scare on my hand from the peddle.
On one of my birthdays, I think it was my 13th. Mum, dad and Julie-Anne took me to Pizza Hut. We had a lovely dinner and were going home to have my birthday cake. When we got there Brad had the munchies and ate the whole lot. I remember being so angry with him because he ate it without any thought about how I would feel. Once I got over my hurt (at that age, it was a big deal), I have always had a giggle about it on my birthday and it’s a memory I’ll always have. Still has me stumped how he could eat a whole ice cream cake – never asked him if it gave him a cold headache!!
I was about 11 when Brad first went to jail and I was devastated. I think in my mind Brad died then. From there on we never had a close relationship. I cried myself to sleep for months and struggled with why he wanted to take drugs.
A while later in yr 7, I decided to tell two of my friends, Claire and Katie, about Brad being in jail. I had been all through primary school with them and telling them was a big step. Katie came to me the next day and said that her mum didn’t want her hanging around me anymore. My world crashed, I had so many questions and so much hurt. I wrote Brad a letter and said that I was pleased that he was in jail for the things that he had done. When I was going through some of his letters after he died, I found the letter that he sent me back and he wrote - “I got your letter at Beechworth and it was good to hear from ya, even though it wasn’t one of your most pleasant letters. That part about how your happy that I’m paying for what I have done. That’s a bit silly isn’t it, you might have well just said that your glad I’m in jail and don’t come out. Anyway, hows school…” That wasn’t nice of me to send him and reading his words was terrible. He must have been missing us so much and been scared in there and he gets a letter like that from his little sister!
Losing Katie as a friend was hard, she used to come with me when I stayed at my grandma’s (Syd’s) house, and we were great friends. We never spoke a word after that, we went right through high school together and occasionally had classes together and never spoke. At the end of year 12, she came up to me and apologised. She said that she should never have listened to her mum’s ignorance and that she has always wanted to tell me but didn’t have the courage. Having her say that meant so much. After this, for many years, when I met people I would say that I only had a sister as it was easier to say that. Now, I feel terrible because it is true.
Claire was my rock whist growing up. She lived around the corner and when Brad was around, I was there a lot. She was my shoulder to cry on and the one that would cheer me up when I was sad. I used to call her family, ‘my adoptive family’.
We are still friends now but are not as close, growing apart I guess and she was not supportive to me when Brad passed away. We have been friends for 17 years and she knew me inside and out, but became rapt up in her own life the last yr or two and when I called her for support and to tell her about Brad, she said that I should be feeling relief. Maybe so, I’m not sure. Maybe I am being too hard on her. But I thought she would a least come to his funeral.
When I was about 13 or 14, Brad was around quite a bit and he and Julie-Anne would have parties on the verandah. I loved these times and looked up to Brad’s friends (well… actually, I had a crush on a few of them!!). They would help me with my homework and play the Gameboy with me. I thought they were all so cool and have fond memories of them. I remember that dad would have a good time partying with them too and it was such a fun house to be growing up in. But sadly, Brad went back to jail and I went back to crying myself to sleep.
Around this time, I had an argument with Brad, he was stoned and drunk and I think he was teasing me, so I put a bucket on over his head and smashed a bottle of beer on it. It got my frustration out and at least I put the bucket on his head first!!
When Brad was around, I was told to go to my room while mum and dad spoke with Brad. I used to get mad at Brad and I would wonder why I was being punished because of him. It didn’t matter if I was watching TV or playing outside or in the middle of something, I would have to go to my room. After a while, I would go to my room automatically without being asked and I found it silly because I could hear what was going on. Sometimes I would go up the back and talk to the sheep and have a cry instead of going to my room. Sounds silly, but I used to wish that I was one of the sheep, no stress, no one to hurt me. I know that I was sent to my room for protection and that it must have been so hard for mum and dad to know what to do with me.
I think because I was shut away from him, that’s why I became scared of him when I was younger. In the early days, he would come around in a trench coat and wake me up by banging on my window to be let in. I remember thinking that he had scary eyes sometimes and I used to be scared that when he was on drugs that he would hurt me. I remember one night that he put on a scary mask and his trench coat and walked into mum’s bedroom and woke her, it nearly gave her a heart attack.
I was always worried about bringing friends home when Brad was around. Quite often Police would knock on the door and ask for Brad or ask to come in and talk with mum and dad. For a while there, it was a regular occurrence and it became second nature. One time, I answered the door and a Policeman started pressuring me to tell him where Brad was. I said that I didn’t know and then mum came to the door and she was not impressed. I remember that his approach scared me.
When Brad came back from Darwin in 2004, we had a great talk and I cherish it now. I was living in the bungalow at mum and dad’s with Rob. We had a few drinks and I let it all out. He sat there patiently listening and when I was finished he said that he was sorry for my hurt and that he kept my letters from when I was younger. We talked for hours that night, and he gave me some insight into his life. This, at the age of 25 was the first time I had a heart to heart with him and got to know him. I wish we could have had the opportunity to move on and have a fresh start when he got out.
I don’t have many memories of telling Brad that I loved him. I’m kind of renowned for giving a hug and saying ‘I love you’ to people a lot. I know that I gave him a hug after that chat and said I loved him but can’t say that I said it many other times.
I know he loved me and that I was his little sis, ‘Grubby’. That’s what he used to call me (not sure why) but I used to like it. I remember that he was always proud of me and Julie-Anne. He always said that we were “doing real good”.
He was always proud of my achievements in life, no matter how small – leaving school, going to Tafe, getting a boyfriend, buying a house and so on. That’s what I’ll miss most, his loyalty, his love and for always being proud.
Brad loved being at our place. A couple of years ago, he broke his leg and mum and dad were going out so he stayed over. That was a good time too, we drank, sat by the fire and talked crap. He loved fires and he and Rob were good mates.
The second last time that Brad went to jail, he was mucking up and came to our place and asked that we take him to the police station. So Rob and I took him to Frankston Police Station and Brad begged the officer to lock him up for the few days he had before his court case so that he didn’t do any more crime in the mean time. The officer said that he couldn’t lock him up unless he was caught doing something. I remember him being so angry that he was asking to be locked up and they wouldn’t do it. I could see both sides, the side of the cop not giving two hoots and the side of Brad asking and pleading to be taken off the streets. On the way to the police station, Rob, Brad and I sang ACDC and Metallica really loud. Brad was straight and happy with his decision to go in early and thought that it was for the best. But he was really upset on the way home and perhaps rightly so.
I was angry with Brad the morning that he died. I called Dad and he sounded so stressed and tired from having Brad at his place since the night before. I was so upset with him for stressing dad out after his operation. Dad needed to rest and was counting on Brad to help him. I said to Dad that Brad was a pain in the ass and that if he didn’t want to live then he should do us all a favour because we had been through so much, and dad’s health was so important and that it should have been a wake up call for him. Man, do I regret those words and I will regret them for the rest of my life. I know that what happened was out of my control and was not the result of my outburst but it still leaves a bad feeling in my heart.
Growing up with Brad was hard and I always envied the strong relationship between Brad and Julie-Anne. Julie-Anne knows and remembers the fun Brad, partying together and sharing friends. I wish so dearly, that I had these too. But it’s funny how I didn’t think I had many good memories until I started to write this. It has made me realise that I have good memories too. There were lots of bad times but now I can concentrate on the good memories and cherish those.
All of this has made me a stronger person. Growing up with a drug addict as a sibling is a hard struggle. I have learnt tolerance and an understanding for peoples struggles. I thank him for that. I truly believe that Brad made our family stronger, we stuck together in the bad times and I have learnt the true value of unconditional love. We never gave up on Brad, he always had a safe place to come, whether it be mum and dads, Julie-Anne’s or my place.
For people reading his with a sibling who has a drug problem, it’s hard and you will probably be judged, teased, pushed aside, and wondering what you have done wrong. You will feel hurt, angry and scared at times (sometimes all these feeling at the same time). But remember that it’s not your fault and make sure you have someone you can talk to. Drugs affect people’s personality and I understood this so much more once he died and realised that Brad was a good person and it was the drugs that were bad.
Let the person know how they are making you feel. But most of all love them and give them all the support and encouragement in the world. That is unconditional love.
I love Brad, and miss him dearly. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish that I could have done more and wish that we had a closer relationship. But I can now say after getting all this out in the open, that the good times were few but precious.
