A really sweet and joyful email about brother and sister
If you came to Confidence Live you'll know my brother Kieran. He was the one who opened the conference doing a vocally mediocre but performatively perfect rendition of This Is Me. I have 4 brothers but growing up *whispers* Kieran and I were closest. Kieran is 7 years older than me; but where my other brothers liked football, wrestling and seeing if Kirst can fit in a suitcase, Kieran would play me symphonies from his "Best of Classical 1750-1800" CD and teach me to identify an oboe.
We grew up in a lively household. When I was ~3, one of my other brothers fell ill with cancer. He was only young at the time and has fortunately been well ever since his treatment, but I can only imagine what that must have been like for my mum. A hoard of feral children managing schools reports, pony tails and radiotherapy.
Kieran took on quite a lot of my care.
One day, Kieran and I were walking to our local corner shop armed with a few 20p coins in our pocket, ready to do some damage. We used to sing songs. As I type that I realise the past tense is wrong. Kieran is always singing songs, even to unassuming conference audiences in the hundreds. The fact that he can't really sing doesn't seem to bother him a jot. The shop was called Macks.
"This is the way we go to Macks! Go to Macks! Go to Macks! This is the way we go to Macks on a cold and frosty morning!"
We held hands and skipped and sang down the road.
"This is the way we go to Macks! Go to Macks! Go to Macks! This is the way we go to Macks..."
We sang the line and suddenly, out of nowhere, an old man with mad silver wiry hair like a cartoon scientist popped his head over his garden fence and belted in booming baritone:
"ON A COLD AND FRRRROSTY MORNIIIIIIINNNNG!"
We screamed in delight, ran away and laughed about that for oh, 30 years.
That joyful, playful man is almost certainly gone now. And I doubt that on his death bed he could even remember doing that, let alone had any awareness of the lifetime of giggles and connection it gave me and my brother. I can't imagine, as his life faded, he had any idea how many times we would recount that story and he would, once again, make us cry with laughter.
Maybe he made you laugh, too.
This email is a Friday reminder that you are always meaningfully, positively impacting people and you don't even know it. You are the kind or joyful stranger in someone's story. You are woven into the web of other people's lives in a way you'll forever be oblivious to.
And that, I think, is f*cking beautiful. We're connected, me and you.
Why try and hide, when you're having such an impact anyway? You're being seen ANYWAY. You're changing lives regardless of how quietly you sit - might as well get intentional about it, shall we?
Have a wonderful weekend.
Kirsty x
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