In Loving Memory – Uncle John & Uncle Bob (House fire)

In Loving Memory – Uncle John & Uncle Bob (House fire)

My two uncles John Brown and Robert Brown were my mam’s brothers. There were thirteen of them in the family, a big family full of noise and laughter and struggle. Their mam died when my mam was just eight years old. After that, it was my grandad who raised them all, every single one. Thirteen children. He did his best with what he had. He was a good man. Strong and kind, and the kind of father who didn’t give up. He carried on for them.

Grandad Brown was a coal miner and a grave digger. He worked hard all his life, and he too was a lovely man. Honest and strong, he looked after his family the best way he could. We were all proud of him.

Uncle John went to war like all his brothers did. It was what was expected then. He never married and never had children. He was quiet, kept to himself, but he was thoughtful. You could see it in how he moved around people, calm and respectful. After grandad died, Uncle John and Uncle Bob stayed on in grandad’s house. They never left. It was home, full of history and memory. The house sat in a small town where everyone knew everyone. People remember that place, even now.

John and Bob were two brothers with hearts of gold. They didn’t speak much to each other, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t love. They had their own quiet way of showing it. I loved them so much. There was something about their stillness, their steady presence. They were always there. Just knowing they were in that house brought comfort.

Then came the night that changed everything. The house caught fire. It started from a ceiling light. The light caught fire and dropped onto Uncle John’s bed. He was sleeping. The fire spread fast. By the time Uncle Bob woke up, it had already taken hold. He tried so hard to save Uncle John. He really did. He went for him, shouted for him, but Uncle John had collapsed on the floor behind the door. The heat and smoke were thick, and the flames were rising. By then, the stairs were on fire. There was no way down.

Uncle Bob had no choice but to jump. Somehow, he managed to get out. He was burned and full of smoke. They got him to hospital, and he stayed there for a while. He was never quite the same after that. You could see it in his eyes — the loss, the pain. He carried it quietly.

The house burned to the ground. Nothing was left. Uncle John didn’t make it. Uncle Bob was taken in by his other brother, Uncle Billy. Uncle Billy was in the Navy during the war. He was a strong man in his own way, and he took Bob in after the fire. But Bob didn’t last long after that. He died not long after. It broke our hearts. So much loss in so short a time.

The house was pulled down. The land is still there, but the home is gone. Just memories now.

John Brown was my uncle. A true gentleman. He and Uncle Bob didn’t deserve to die this way. It wasn’t right. They should have had peace, safety, the comfort of growing old with family nearby. I hope they are at peace now. I picture them together, quiet like they always were, but side by side.

This happened in 1979. So many years have passed, but I still think of them. I miss Uncle John and Uncle Bob all the time. They were two wonderful men. They didn’t need much, and they gave so much. The kind of love that stays with you forever.

All my mam’s family are dead now,my Mam too. So many aunts and uncles. There are lots of memories and laughter to be remembered. It was A horrible 1979 because the week of the funeral my dads beloved Twin sister died too. My Aunty Nelly. I miss her too.

God bless you all. xxx