Remembering Jones on his Birthday

Created by Cressida one year ago

My little brother (Whom I’ll always know as ‘Jones’) was a remarkably clever and witty boy, as ingenious as he was cheeky.
He always seemed to be tinkering with things, taking them apart and putting them back together again in his own way.

He also read particularly well, adept in his delivery & timing:

The very best memory I have of him … Is of a Little Jones, calling me over to share a couple of chapters from a book he’d found.
He was already shaking with silent hilarity as he beckoned me to sit - he couldn’t wait to share the content with someone who’d love it as much as he did.  I can picture him perched atop that large chest of drawers, reciting passages about a pair of fiendish Magenpies.  Both of us shrieking with laughter.  It’s a brilliant book, but much the better for his reading it.
Things like this happened a lot.  But that was a really nice day.

I knew him to be conscientious; a man who took care to do things properly.  He wanted to do right by this planet, and the humans upon it. & A lot of that appreciation - I reckon - was because he was able to understand so much about everything around him.
There was almost no subject you couldn’t chat to him about.  He was a person both interesting and interested, and you could always learn something new from talking to him.

(Whilst I might hope he’d have been pleased to read this, he’d probably have been very embarrassed - and told me to shut it!)

Throughout what must have been an impossible path to navigate though his illness, he was always able to summon the energy to be thoughtful and kind.  & I remember - when visitors came, his first thought would mostly be to ask after others, checking that they were OK.  Or the times he reassured those of us who didn’t know the right thing to say (Because who does?) He wanted people to feel alright … Even when the things going on were not the least bit ‘alright’.
I looked at him, and thought to myself what a proper grown-up human being he was.

A moment I’ll cherish from the past months is New Year’s Eve.  
We all crept outdoors whispering and giggling furtively. Jones huddled over against the cold to light the cords, before throwing insanely loud imported fireworks under the bridge. My own throw left a lot to be desired, but he didn’t rag me about it too much.
We tried to retreat into the glow of the house stealthily, but it wasn’t easy amid our huge grins and bursts of laughter.  

To be honest I’m sure the neighbours didn’t really mind that much.  But we told ourselves that we were real rebels, up to proper mischief.
Just as it was when we were little.

He was a good brother, and I’m glad of the time we had with him.  Should have been a lot longer.