My loving, big, funny brother
My loving, big, funny brother
When my brother died, we were all bereft. My whole family, extended whanau, friends and strangers near and far, were overnight, plunged into unbearable sadness and shock. The trauma lasted for years.
My big, strong brother was gone.
Life had become too hard for him, so he drove to his favourite beach, one night and ended his life. Quietly and gently. He was gone.
In the immediate hours and days
after his death, as we gathered at our family home to bid him farewell, his
friends told stories about him. Funny stories I had never heard before. Hair-raising
antics that sounded incredibly risky; moments of extreme loyalty and generosity
to friends. Strangers came up to me,
sharing their memories of a kindness he had bestowed on them during a rough
patch in their own lives.
His final hikoi/journey into the
afterlife was a gathering of equal love and tears as we all mourned and honoured his wonderful yet, short life.
He loved and accepted all people
and was fiercely protective and loyal to his immediate family, mainly my mum,
myself and my four sons. His tender generosity
of heart and spirit abounded frequently amongst all those around him.
Many of the musical and artistic skills that my oldest sons learnt from him, are still in use today.
His guitars are played by two of his nephews, and take pride of place in their homes.
Hori was a man of many crafts and skills. He
was a keen diver, a legend for sussing out the undiscovered spots where the paua beds were.
He regularly dived for friends and family and some of my best memories are of when
he turned up several times during my third and fourth pregnancies with fresh
paua for me. A natural and delicious source of iron, and my favourite sea food.
I never learnt to dive, there was no need of it. My brother was the one who
supplied me regularly with the best kai moana. I can however dig up a big
bucket of tuatua, and I am not averse to gathering mussels off the rocks at low
tide.
But one little known talent that my
brother seldom shared was his gift of writing, mainly poems and a bit
of prose, which was moving and sensitive. He also had beautiful, old-fashioned, cursive handwriting. I wish I
had more of his writings.
I'm glad we shared this gift, cause
heaven knows, I can’t play the guitar or
create bone carvings- but I can dance real well.
Hori carried many unique and beautiful
talents but it's the memories we hold dearest. His artwork and music is what I physically keep and honour. His
legacy? Well, there are more than just one. To this day we still hear music and
say, “Hori used to play this!” Three of my sons are musicians, three are artists,
they all play video games and collectively still miss their uncle all the time.
We all share his sharp wit and at
times, raucous sense of humour.
I’m not sure that there is any one
thing that I strongly miss about him, mostly I just miss my brother. There is
an emptiness inside me that will never go away. I still cry when I think about
how much we don’t laugh together anymore.
But we’ll meet again one day, and
in the meantime we all share the joy and honour of the man who will forever be
our favourite brother, uncle, son and best friend in the world, along with the hundreds
of other people who had the privilege of crossing paths with him and having him
in their lives for a short or a long time.
He left us too soon. He didn’t say
goodbye – but we will never forget him.
Kia kaha Hori, RIP man.
love sis xxx
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