Wow, this is strange! I hope you all understand my terminology as my Welsh-ness comes out sometimes.
So let's start from the start -
My name is Kirsty.
I haven't had an easy life, but I'm sure you will learn all about me by keeping up to date with my blogs. I was brought up in a lovely seaside town in South Wales. I went to a Catholic school (Primary & Secondary), not that this made me a practising Catholic by any means. Whilst in school I think if anyone had asked me to talk about the bible I would not have had much to say. I did however leave school with all my GCSE's, so I cannot mock my education.
When I was young my parents split up, resulting in divorce. I always lived with my mum and saw my dad when possible. If I was to guess my age when they split I'd say about 12. I had a brother whilst growing up too, his name was Adrian. Not that I would admit it at the time, but he was a very handsome boy, unfortunately he got steered in the wrong direction. When I was 14, I went on holiday with my dad to Tenerife. At the time my brother was 18 and serving time in prison. I arrived back during the night so stayed at his house until the morning. I still remember it like it was yesterday, my dad received a phone call that morning from my mothers friend. All I knew was that we were having to rush me to my mums. There were 2 police vehicles in the street, and I knew instantly it was something to do with my brother. I remember having a bizarre dream on the plane, but nothing vivid enough to remember, but I know Adrian was in it.
Even though I knew something was up, I put on my smiles and walked into my mothers house. As I'd been away for a week, I piped up "Mum, I'm home" in a jolly voice. This maybe wasn't the best move, but I wasn't to know the severity of what I was walking into.
What happened next is all a bit of a blur. I remember walking into the dining room where my mother was sat on the sofa crying, being comforted by her friend. Two police men were also in the room, but standing. I do not remember the exact words that the officer said, all I remember is being told that my brother had committed suicide the night previous, and all I could do was flop into a chair and cry. I remember my dad just walking out of the dining room, into the conservatory to be alone and just staring out of the window in a daze.
I don't recall much after that, but that moment will stay with me forever. Suddenly an only child! I recall a close friend coming over, and me going crazy demanding that she walk me to our local police station so I can go crazy, and blame them. Tell them it was all their fault that my brother was dead. Instead I got to the police station and just sat on the wall and cried.
I'm not a hard woman, but I am good at putting on a front and pretending that everything is fine. From that day until the funeral I did not cry once. In my head I had to be strong for my mum. We were so lucky that people brought food to us, as otherwise my mum wouldn't have eaten.
I remember the morning of the funeral, however it is a bit blurry. I sat in the living room, dressed in black, my hair still fully in braids from my holiday. Looking out the window and seeing the funeral car, holding my brothers coffin. My eyes filling with tears, I suddenly realised how unprepared I was with not even a packet of tissues to hand. As family and friends looked after my mum, I went down the road to the corner shop alone to get a small packet of tissues for everyone. Seeing that coffin that morning was the first time I'd seen my brother since going inside. I could not bring myself to go see him at the hospital morge, or the funeral home. The day before the funeral I was ready to see him, and say my goodbyes but it was too late, they had closed the coffin. I didn't want to talk to a box.
After that the complete day is a blur. I remember being sat on a pew in our local Catholic church, and looking behind as my mum stumbled down the aisle being held up by my uncle, as she couldn't walk with the grief. That image is too vivid. The church was so full that people were even stood outside in the gardens not being able to squeeze in. My brother was very much loved in our town.
At the crematorium we played the song 'I'll be missing you' by Puff Daddy. I had remembered a passing comment from when we were children. The song came on the radio, we were only young it was a long time before his death, and my brother turned to me and said "I want this at my funeral". That comment had stuck, and I remembered it as my brothers last request.
As a teenager, I dusted myself off and got on with my life. But there has not been one day where I have not thought of him, or spoken to him. I used to have dreams that he'd climb through my bedroom window, that he'd been allowed back to earth for one day only. I used to imagine the police coming to the door and realising it was the wrong cellmate in my brothers room, and that he'd died and my brother was still alive. Obviously this did not come true.
At the age of 17, I met my first serious boyfriend. Being the responsible person that I am, I went to the doctors and put myself on the pill. I met this boy (I say boy as that is what he was, we were so young) in the October. All was well, it was young love, and nothing anyone was going to say would make me think ill of him. I should have walked away from the beginning if all truth be told. Looking back there were so many telltale signs of him being a cheat, but I was not willing to accept them.
In the year of 2004, a boy from school passed away late Feb or early March time. I had also missed a period the same week, was it the shock of his death that stopped my menstrual cycle? No. After the boys funeral I couldn't take it anymore. I went home from the church, not staying for the wake, and bought a pregnancy test. As my mum was in work, I took it home to do it. I did the deed, but left the test in the bathroom. Too afraid to look at it, I waited a while until I plucked up the courage to look. There is was in white & blue. I was 17 and pregnant. I remember telling my boyfriend over the phone as he was away with work. He could not believe it. That weekend he had to tell his parents. Once that bombshell was dropped I had his father at my door, very angry and demanding that I have an abortion. I may have not been a practising Catholic, but I certainly did not agree with abortion. It was not an option.
I was pregnant over my 18th birthday, where my family threw me a surprise birthday party. Then in October 2004, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I had never loved anything so much. He was perfect. I was still with his dad, who moved into my mothers once baby was born. Despite the initial shock of ne being pregnant, my boyfriends family loved my son as much as I did.
In 2008 I split with my sons father. Following the years of my sons birth I learnt that my boyfriend had been cheating on me constantly. As I was still so young, I ignored it and forgave him. Pride was a big element of my choice to forgive, I was not prepared to be labeled as a teenage single mother. However, I did finally see the light and walk away as I was just so unhappy with him. I did not love him.
So, I may have been a mother, but I was still young and single. I wanted to embrace this, and just have a good time. I was also a nursing student, so there were plenty of student nights to have fun at. I met a very dear friend whilst studying. She was seeing a soldier, and she would write letters to him during lectures as he was training in Germany I think it was. I wrote a few to him, to introduce myself as her new friend as I had never met him before. I thought she was crazy dating a soldier, how could she do it? Be apart for that long?
He asked her to marry him. And she was planning her engagement party. She asked all of us from Uni to go, but I was the only one who went. Being sat at a party full of strangers was not good, there was only one thing for it - stay near the bar and drink as much vodka and coke I could take. So that is what I did.
The next morning my friend called to see if I was ok, which I was just rather hungover. She told me I had kissed one of her fiancé's friends. 'Oops' I thought. She said she would give him my number. I heard nothing. So I looked to Facebook. Going through my friends fiancé's friends list I found him. I added him as a friend, nervously. Even once he had accepted it, it took me a few days to say hello. Once I did it was great. We sent eachother a few private messages, getting to know eachother. As I was completely ready for single life I tried putting him off by explaining my past and that I had a son. Never the less we arranged to met. I wasn't ready for dating so we decided to meet in a club and to take a friend. It took me a while to feel comfortable as I wasn't sure how to do this sort of thing. After a few drinks I loosened up and we kissed. I know it's such a cliché but that was the moment I fell in love with him. His lips were so soft, and tge way he kissed me made my world stop. This worried me. I did not want to ruin this by taking him home that night. I went to the toilet to clear my head, what had just happened? Whilst sat on the toilet I'll Be Missing You by Puff Daddy came on. That was it, I could not ruin this. I was scared about falling in love and being hurt again. So rather than going back to the table to see him, I left. I went home and turned my phone off. All I kept thinking was 'what am I doing? I want to be free and single'!
I woke to voicemails from him, worried that he had done something wrong. Thankfully a text explaining that I had freaked out and was sorry was enough to keep the ball rolling.
The following weekend we went to Cardiff clubbing with the couple that we knew (the couple who's engagement party we had both met at). We checked into the Hilton, very extravogant! That was the weekend we decided to become a couple.
That week he had to go back to work. I was pleasantly surprised by a delivery of gorgeous roses to my front door from my gorgeous soldier man. I finally knew how my friend did it, how she dated a soldier, love knows no boundaries. This was the beginning of my whirlwind romance with my soldier, my hero, my love.