As one might expect, my earliest memory is of my mother, perhaps earlier, though, than most would really expect.  I recall my mother lifting me out of my iron framed cot and breast feeding me.  My cot was alongside my parent’s bed in the front bedroom of Erin Vale.
 
My last memory of Mum also involved her being in bed, but a hospital bed, some four and a half years later.  She had contracted cancer!
 
Aunty Molly Walsh, mum’s sister, had taken me on a visit to the hospital sometime in January 1937.  There was a hospital table straddling Mum’s bed and on it, a jar of black and white humbug lollies.  As a four-year-old I was interested in the lollies and kept eyeing them off.  Whether in exasperation or with motherly love, she exclaimed “alright, you can have one”.  This is the last memory I have of her.  She died on 31st day of that same month.
 
My brother Pat was 17-year-old and as a big brother, he spoiled me and bought me a red trike.  He also purchased an upright AWA radio for the family.  He had a beautiful thoroughbred pony called The Yodeller.
 
World War 2 came upon us on 3rd September 1939.  Pat, putting his age up, enlisted in the Army as a Sapper (Driver) and was sent to the Middle East.  Unbeknown to us he was injured and returned to Brisbane in 1944.  He called back home on his way through.  I was living at Meg and Mary Caines’s property (Mary was Dad’s sister) at Swanwater North and Pat called unexpectedly.  I was 12 years old and hadn’t seen him since 1937.  I didn’t know him, I wasn’t told who he was, and wondered why he was taking an interest in me.  It wasn’t until after he left that I became aware.   (Next to Mum’s death, this has been the greatest disappointment of my life).  Pat carried on to Brisbane undoubtedly wondering why I hadn’t greeted him with open arms.  I imagine he was as disappointed as I was!
 
On Friday, 16th March, 1951, while working with VPC in Benalla, we conducted a Special Sheep Sale.  It was a long, busy day.  On arriving home at my boarding house I was presented with an Urgent Telegram.  It simply read “Pat passed away suddenly this morning.  Funeral Monday morning” … sender JOHN (another brother).
 
On Monday at the funeral I held Dad’s hand, unknowingly, for the last time.
 
On Christmas Eve of that same year I travelled to St Arnaud, to be met at the bus-stop by Aunty Kath and Toby.  They told me that Dad had passed away that same morning:  I suspect of a broken heart.  He had never come to grips with Pat’s death.  I was taken to the mortuary where I saw him lying, finally at peace.
 
In 1972 Aunty Kath and Toby’s oldest son lost his wife to cancer, leaving him with six children, the youngest, Alyson, being only 8 months old.  Bernadette and I fostered her for approximately three years.  She was a loveable child, and we were anxious to adopt her.  Her father, however, remarried and reclaimed her.  We were distraught when she left our care.  It may be some consolation to say that we now have four children of our own.  Depends on how one looks at it!
 
And so, my demons have been expunged!
​
 
Ray O’Shannessy,
5th May 2024