Back in the day

Apparently, nostalgia is good for us, especially those of us who suffer with Dementia.

If we are to believe the philosophers, though, every one of us is challenged when it comes to remembering who we really are.  Young or old, we all struggle to set the various pieces of our lives into some kind of meaningful whole.

Looking back at the old photos, now conveniently displayed on a Facebook album, it is hard for me to imagine that my teenage years are already a quarter of a Century away; even harder to imagine that, when these formative moments of my life were laid down, I was almost the same age as my eldest son is now.

Time flies, our sense of fashion changes (thankfully), but in an instant I am transported back into a world that continues to makes complete sense.

Paul, Sue, Adam, Bernice, Jason, Louise and Ruth - the names of these half-forgotten friends return to my mind with surprising ease, along with their smiles and the sounds of their voices.  Together, we made up a ‘gang’ and, despite the fact that I always felt somewhat on the edge (I was a couple of years younger and self-conscious about being the ‘new boy’ in town), these were the people who helped me work out who I was and who I could become.

And then there was Steve.  He must have been eight years older than me – a man already, at a time when I still considered myself a boy; the elder brother I never had.

Looking again at the photos, I remember him as if it were yesterday.  I recall how much I looked up to him, wanted to be like him, and literally prayed to God that I could somehow emulate his unique charm and infectious sense of humour.

Steve had everything: the girl, the car, and the mark of a leader.

A simple comment under one of the photos, however, brings me back to a story that was to have the cruelest of endings.

‘We loved you Steve.  See you in heaven.’

Not long after this photo was taken, Steve was killed in a car crash.  It was the first time that anyone close to me had died and, to this day, it feels like the loss of the older brother I never had.

And what troubles me most is that I am not sure that he ever knew how much he meant to me.

Twenty-five years later, every member of the ‘gang’ has gone their separate ways – unraveling stories and adventures that surely none of us could ever have predicted ‘back in the day’.

I’m not sure if we’ll ever all meet up.  It may be too late for that.  But I’d like to think that, even if that opportunity never comes, I will occasionally return to this chapter of my life, enjoy the nostalgia, and recall with great fondness a group of people who loved me for a while.

Comments

[Sue Nicholls]

Well said, David. Your thoughts are right on the button. Steve was so special to so many, and the fact that we all remember him with such fondness shows how big a gap he left. We had some fun in those days didn't we?? Church was as much a social club as a place to meet God, and all my memories of those days seem to be crystal clear, and very special. I remember very well having to have a meeting with Margaret and Graeme in the kitchen that went on very late, and when I came out you had left me some sweets to cheer me up! I hope you haven't lost your sensitive side! LOL.
Time marches inexorably onwards, but in our heads we can still feel 17 or 18, and still have fun!! Take Care xxx