Little Bit About Me - Part 2

After my stepfathers murder my life would never be the same again. I remember being shipped off to my aunts house in another part of Belfast. Much to my dismay, as my brother got sent to my dads house which was far better I thought. I can't remember how long I stayed there for, it seemed like weeks but could have been days. I can remember hating every minute of it, though. I can still feel the sick feeling in my stomach being away from my mother. She has a kind and loving way about her that I craved and when I was away from her I hated it. My aunt is nice, but she wasn't my mother, she didn't make up for me not seeing my mum. I also missed my older brother who wasn't with me either, we never spent time apart. We fought like most bothers did, but we loved each other very much. Not being with him was like losing part of myself at a time when I needed him most.

After the funeral we were all reunited and moved into a facility ran by the catholic church in South Belfast. We all shared a single room and a communal kitchen. I vaguely remember my mother complaining when someone would use our food. Also the kitchen had a funny smell to it. We were made to go to lessons with the nuns about the bible and catholic teachings, it was all very tedious I thought. I must admit though, the nuns treated us so well and I have no bad words for them at all. They were kind people and seemed to genuinely care for us. When I see a nun now I always remember this.

We moved into a flat near the facility after a period of time. The flat was really nice I must admit. All newly refurbished and in quite a nice area. We also went to a lovely primary school and I made some nice friends. I always felt I was different, though. My mother was heavily pregnant at this stage. I remember her going into labour and myself and my bother not having a clue what to do. I think we stayed with a neighbour while she went and gave birth to my sister. My sister was born and her father had been murdered only months before. This fact has really disturbed me ever since, the fact she never knew him at all is absolutely heartbreaking.

My mother met someone else after a time. He was ok, but nobody compared to the man we lost. My grandmother lived in Manchester, and my mum made the decision that we would move there. She wanted to get us away from the troubles in Northern Ireland. I also think my mum yearned to be with her mother after years aport. I remember being super excited to go to Manchester. My brother and I went there before my mother, sister and her partner, so that my grandmother could organise us into school. I remember it was my first time on a plane, my brother was sitting beside me during take off. As soon as the plane started hurtling down the runaway I was absolutely terrified. I remember my brother hugging me and it was a great comfort.

My grandmother lived in a council estate in North Greater Manchester. It was a rough place and very different from leafy South Belfast. I remember starting school and everything seemed so alien. I might as well have been on a different planet. The excitement of moving there was slowly disappearing, I began to hate it.

When I think back to these times I don't ever remember my stammer being an issue.