If this were a scripted movie, it would be much easier to describe....jump cuts could help us travel through time, starting in the late eighties seeing through the eyes of a small girl as she watches her big sister stop breathing and collapse yet again, watches as her lips start to turning that blueish tint that she knows means big panic from her parents, watches as her sister's eyes slowly start to open and look around her, blinking slowly several times before big sister utters the simple words "....not again". Normality resumes. Normality always resumes.
Jump cut to big sister sitting proudly on top of a gentle giant of a horse, trotting around the stables of an old country house, cut to the two sisters playing alone together in caravan parks around the country (but parks that are always near to a hospital, and near to family, just incase there's a very bad turn) playing alone again because the other kids don't want to play with the weird kid. Cut to another holiday, this time in a holiday centre that Downs Syndrome Ireland have organised to be just for families like theirs, and holidays suddenly feel like they're supposed to; idyllic and fun. No-one stares at the two sisters, big sister makes new friends, little sister meets others siblings like her; and is relieved to know she's not alone in her experiences, it's a different kind of normal, but it's normal.
A brief montage, sisters playing football with their big brothers in their back garden, sisters trading library books in their shared bedroom, little sister learning to speed-read because big sister gets to decide when it's lights out for the night. Giggles and grins at the cinema with their Gran, helping their Dad dig potatoes in the garden, arguments over who gets to put baby Jesus in the crib on Christmas Eve; and over the years, little sister and big sister share their room (although the mess is always little sister's) they share their toys, share the same hair colour, but rarely hair styles and eventually, they share their height. Big sister has the cheekiest sense of humour, sneaking food from right under people's noses, teasing people, and occasionally, pulling their noses too. They fight, as all sisters do, but big sister doesn't know that little sister fights a lot more, at school, in the estate, on holidays; fights anyone who dares to call the big sister she idolises any bad names. Big sister instead idolises Michael Jackson, sings his songs, copies his dance moves, and guards her tapes of him with her life. She shares her Enid Blyton books with little sister though.
Jump cut to the teenage years, the sisters have their own bedrooms; and everything is changing, rooms, styles, houses and homes. In a new neighbourhood, they no longer share a room, no longer share secrets, and rarely share day to day stories, little sister and big sister's lives are diverging.
Big sister is now in a training centre, adding to her everyday skills, little sister is in secondary school, dealing with teenage friendships and boyfriends, heartbreak and bereavements and all the angst that comes with that. In the midst of it all, big sister has taken up golfing with her Dad. They travel to the local golf club, almost daily, Dad pushing her wheelchair, or occasionally driving across, and she pitches and putts and her heart holds out through it all.
Big sister plays with Team Connaught, as well as
for herself, and the Special Olympics arrive properly into her life. In the past,
she has won medals for swimming, for horse-riding, but she reckons golf
is her thing now. She decides she's a bit of a Tiger Woods, little
sister shrugs and says she'd prefer to be Dolores O'Riordan. Little
sister often wonders why big sister bothers.
A slow
fade to a dreary November weekday morning in 1999, little sister is
grumpy and doesn't want to go to school, big sister is quiet and upset
as she always is when Mum's away; and barely eats her porridge. Dad
fusses and grumps at both of them to get ready for their respective
buses. Little sister comes home to a quiet panicked house that evening. A
Doctor is there, then there's wailing coming from big sister's room,
talk of ambulances and whether it's already too late, and little sister
retreats crying quietly into her room, choosing not to listen to her
usual melancholy music but big sister's current favourite song,
Westlife's "Flying Without Wings", hoping for a miracle, not ready to say goodbye, even though little sister has known all her life that this day would arrive.
Crash
cut to a hospital bedside, big sister is awake, talking, and moving,
but not on her left side. She's had a stroke. At the age of 20, her body
has decided to test her with something completely unexpected yet again.
In the hospital and at home, there's talk of physio, of rehab, of how
much damage may have been done between it happening and her
hospitalisation; and all the while, little sister wonders how she didn't
notice the previous morning that big sister was struggling. Big
sister's tenacity gets her through yet again; 3 weeks later, she has
some movement back in her left hand side, and she's wheeled across a
golf course to take her shots and putts to help Team Connaught to a
Special Olympics title; yet another trophy, yet another medal.
A
slow sequence, shots of gym work, and home physio with her parents,
while big sister slowly recovers, and trains daily; as she practises her
putts, her chips, her golf skills, the years pass, and it's 2002. Little sister has
moved to England; and, in a yellow reg'd car on a country lane one sunny evening,
gets a call to tell her that big sister has qualified for Team Ireland
for 2003's Special Olympics, to be held in Dublin. Big sister's caddy
and coach, her Dad, works with her at home as well as at the golf club.
Little sister knows big sister is different person to who she was before
her stroke, but there's so many signs she's coming back to who she was before.
A
wide shot of a colourful Croke Park, 82 thousand people cheer as one as
the Olympic flame is lit, as U2 play, as Nelson Mandela speaks, and
countless other celebrities march through with different countries...but
the biggest cheers come for the athletes. You could cut to any face in
the crowd and see the same love, the same stories echoed throughout the
continents, the countries; each family there knows what they have all
been through, and the shared love radiates.
Video screens show the scenes in the stadium, the fans, the athletes and all of a sudden, big sister's face appears on one, grinning as she's interviewed on live TV as the Irish team enter; and with her usual confidence, reckons she'll do well. Her family are thankful she didn't say she'd kick ass as she was watched throughout the world; as is her typical response when asked how she'll perform. The next few days prove her right though, she does kick ass.
Shots of a golf course, of athletes and their families, little sister watches as big sister faces 5 different tests of her golfing skills, everything chipping over a high wall from 10 ft away, to short putts; and with hugs and well wishes from Colin Farrell as well family and friends, she works her way up the scoreboard towards the top. Little sister quietly raging that big sister never pointed Colin Farrell her way, but overall, in awe of big sister and the shots, the concentration and the dedication required to get her to this point.
Video screens show the scenes in the stadium, the fans, the athletes and all of a sudden, big sister's face appears on one, grinning as she's interviewed on live TV as the Irish team enter; and with her usual confidence, reckons she'll do well. Her family are thankful she didn't say she'd kick ass as she was watched throughout the world; as is her typical response when asked how she'll perform. The next few days prove her right though, she does kick ass.
Shots of a golf course, of athletes and their families, little sister watches as big sister faces 5 different tests of her golfing skills, everything chipping over a high wall from 10 ft away, to short putts; and with hugs and well wishes from Colin Farrell as well family and friends, she works her way up the scoreboard towards the top. Little sister quietly raging that big sister never pointed Colin Farrell her way, but overall, in awe of big sister and the shots, the concentration and the dedication required to get her to this point.
Final shots are a montage again, with the overlay of an announcers voice rising over a cheering crowd, saying the words "and the gold medal winner, with a score of 217, representing Team Ireland, Bairbre Callagy...." and you see her family in the crowd, her Mum, her Dad in his coaches t-shirt, her Gran, her Aunt & Uncles, her big brothers, and little sister all with tears in their eyes, but smiles that couldn't be bigger or brighter, finally, it cuts to a beaming Bairbre, who, after receiving her medal, urges the crowd to cheer for her louder and louder, who all respond. Little sister knows no matter what else life throws at her, at big sister, at this family, this is a moment of hope, of joy forever etched in their souls.
It could just end there, fading on a cheering crowd, no need for a follow up, but everyone always wants to know what happened next.....
Since 2003, it's not been a totally happy ever after. Loss of family and friends have hit big sister hard; and physically and mentally she's regressed a lot from the madcap kid, the cheeky teenager and young adult before the stroke happened. Yet the flashes of that Babs shine through sometimes; and sometimes it feels like we're 6 & 10 again, planning to run away together (we made it as far as Carraroe...) and sometimes it feels like we're 10 & 14 and trying to figure out why we're so similar yet so different....and sometimes, nowadays, it feels like we've swopped roles; and I'm big sister looking out for little sister.
So a brief summation before the screen should fade to black....big sister celebrated her 30th birthday in 2009, and is planning already for her 40th in 2019. She still visits the golf club regularly, sometimes for practise, sometimes just for tea and a scone. She has three madcap nieces who she quietly adores; parents, siblings, neighbours and friends in awe of her on a daily basis; and she still adores Michael Jackson. Almost as much as she adores her soaps, Westlife, One Direction and a plain ham sandwich on brown bread with a cup of tea for supper. Little sister is sitting here, almost 15 years to the day after that gold medal win, reflecting how just how lucky she has been to have a big sister like Babs.
