(Right now, I’m focusing on my memoirist work that I’ll call, simply, “Pictures of Tommy” -- all about my psychotic brother and his legacy. If so inclined, please share, and tell me what you think. . . )
PICTURES OF TOMMY WE WON’T EVER SEE
He will never meet Mister Kitten, or see the house and the flowers in our garden :-(
When I cry over Tom and his memory, it’s because he missed out on so many good things that I have taken for granted in my charmed life. I’ve known much friendship, romantic love, success in music and writing. I’ve lived in places and done things that many will only dream of. I’ve figured out how to be where I’m nourished and loved.
Whenever I’d want to invite Tommy over, he’d do something to sabotage my desire. For starters, I invited him to our 2006 wedding -- Matthew & me. Tom sent a looseleaf-penned letter with a dirty, crumpled $5 bill. . . with a stinging “Wedding Poem” that I won’t go into here, and the message, “Dear Laurie-- This is to inform you that I will NOT attend the wedding or following reception. Respectfully, Tom”
So. At any rate, we won’t ever see a picture of our brother, Tom, smiling and waving from the Chester-Hadlyme Ferry. We won’t be seeing him on the Essex Stream Train, or at Gillette’s Castle, either.
And we won’t ever see a picture of him at a backyard picnic here in Chester at our century-old farmhouse holding up a large red plastic cup with his name written in black sharpie, saluting the camera with our family and friends with his shy, crooked smile. . .