The Road to Remembrance

Prologue

To most the idea of moving to a home out in the country may have seemed rather unconventional, but I cared very little for public opinion, and besides my family had all came from a farming background so it seemed only natural that I spend my latter years in life doing the same, especially in the house that so many years ago we all once lived.
When I was younger of course I did however feel that I was destined to do something other than spend my evenings chopping wood, but my parents were very house proud and they had the most amazing way of instilling into my head almost nightly, the importance of being true to the family business.
It occurred to me as time went by how truly fortunate I was to be blessed with a loving family, because some Punitive parents assume children have to feel bad in order to learn, but mine just wanted what was best for me, I see that so much clearer now they're gone.
In my heart I guess the reason I moved back into this somewhat derelict farm house so long after my parents had passed was in someway an attempt to correct my life's mistakes by taking over the memories of their success.


I recall quite clearly the day that I moved back onto the farm,
my sister must have given instructions to have everything covered up with plastic to try and preserve my parents belongings, If I close my eyes even now I can still see the sorry state our former sanctuary for family life had become; every picture was taken off the walls and placed on the floor beneath where they once hung, even where the stereo-typical fox and the hounds painting placed above the fire once rested, was now a square yellowish pattern on the wall, I can only presume this was done by my fathers pipe over the years.

The living room itself had an almost breath taking odour of damp to it, and it seemed that the entire room was more like tomb, centuries old, just waiting to be discovered than a room once used to relax in.

The most vivid memory I have of that day was opening the window and seeing a thick coat of dust in the air, bouncing off the sun's piercing glare, almost like it had a God given right to be there and I was the one who was trespassing, I could see that restoring my new home would not be an easy task.. But I had to try.....

I honestly couldn't tell you how many times I have sat on this Chair, It was my fathers, I have never moved it from where he had so enjoyed it being, but I have noticed that in the darkness it seems to look like someone was just moments ago sitting on it, even when I had been on the farm all day, don't get me wrong I do tend to scare easily and I know that it's mostly just my mind playing tricks on me and that shadows are mere threats in a persons subconscious and to give it any more thought than that would make an already lonely existence unbearable,
besides after all it is only a chair and it does seem to have the same comfort level that it had when I used to sit on it with my father some forty to fifty years ago and at my age I doubt I will be going in to the town to try and change it.

There are certain things that I just can't seem to fathom like the illusional Feng shui to this house, even when the curtains are drawn the light always seems to shy away from the exact location of the chair, placed almost perfectly in front of the window, there are times late at night when the glow of the flames of the fire seem to try and find me in the darkness, but even seemingly innocent fire light can make me want to curl up in a ball and wait for the dawn to come.

Life can throw so many lessons at a person... It's ironic that the main one I have learned is that alone time can seldom be a good thing, especially if you have too many thoughts on your mind............ Too many memories.
Admittedly there does seem to be an almost nostalgic aura to my life, who knows maybe that's why I always seem to end up placing my hand on that same tormenting photo album........ No matter how hard I would will myself not to.

In retrospect maybe that's why the people who know me advised not moving back there.

The album itself had a dark brown leather cover, my mother had bought it for me the day I moved out to keep pictures in to bring back and show all the family when I returned home to see them, I had so enjoyed filling it up with photo's of places I had been and all the friends I had made over the years, I never look towards the back of the album through, well not unless I have had a few drinks first then there is one photograph that I always tend to be drawn too, like a small child watching a horror movie when his parents are asleep,
Drawn in by its sheer terror and hoping that if he looks at it long enough that maybe the ending might not be so bad...... And that just maybe, his dreams may be peaceful.

I was once told by a man far too wise for his years that if something saddens you, or in any way brings you down, then the best thing to do is to eliminate it from your life.........
Maybe he was right.... but I could never part with this picture, no matter how much sorrow it brings me...
It's a photo of the three of us, Robert, Stephen and me.
There is nothing particularly menacing about it, it's more the events to follow shortly afterwards, its knowing that what once was so good, would eventually turn so bad.

I suppose looking back that the sensible one was always Rob; he had an almost tranquil presence about him,
The kind of man that growing up, the people who didn't really know or take the time to get to know him would have thought him recluse but that wasn't Robert,
When he spoke you could tell he had thought it through and what he said was usually right...even if I didn't want to hear it.
His ability to say little and still be heard was a rare gift (and a trait from a far I had always envied.)

If we were going on conventional lines then I guess the pretty boy would be Stephen.
Like his brother Rob, he too had the ability to say little and still be heard, although
he did like to be noticed that little bit more, often being the life and soul of any social gathering.

If there was a situation where I had to describe Stephen in only three words then they would surly be ... cool... calm.... collected.
And the women loved him for it.

I Don't even know where to begin when it comes to describing me, I should imagine that it is always hard to judge ones self or even to form an opinion when all you have is hindsight.

I read that ''what we leave behind is a true symbol of how we lived''... In that case it would seem to the uninformed that I had led the life of a simple farmer,
In all honesty I think that I would have preferred that to be the truth, and until I face the demon of this photograph, then that's all they'll ever know........
I can't in all truthfulness remember one single night within the last 12 years that I haven't thought about it, I used to think that if I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on something else that my dreams would be continues.. Uninterrupted.....
I was wrong............................