Monday, 28 December 2015

My father's daughter

Today, it's just four weeks since my dad left this earth. Time moves as fast as it does slow and I feel as if I've slipped into a crack that I don't wish to come out of.

I want to always remember who I was when my father was alive. Our identities are intricately bound with our parentage. Who are parents were / are makes us uniquely ourselves. 

So who was I? I was my father's only daughter and that was a special responsibility. It made me want to understand my father though this was a no easy task.

My father was a complex man; a man whose moods could change like the wind. He was all four seasons in a day and winter could be especially bitter and summer fleeting. 

My father was a fearsome character and the pantomime villain of my youth. He would have made a fascinating psychological case study. He was no hero in the ordinary sense and his many flaws were all too often visible but there was an invincibility about my father that impressed.

My father was never defeated by life's challenges and he was aspirational. He didn't often succeed with his labours but was ever enthusiastic to move on to something bigger and better.

My father was a man with little memory of his own father and this was a huge void in his life. There were insufficient male role models in his youth and his mother was everything to him. 

My father was a raconteur and shared with me stories of his early childhood. It was a tale of hardship following the death of his father and his widowed mother was left to raise 14 children on a paltry pension. 

My father was not a warm person and built a wall around himself. He was a loner but not lonely. He liked company but quite often pushed people away. 

My father was obsessive about current affairs. He loved to watch the news and any political programme. He knew more about conditions on the other side of the world than of events in his own house!

My father never suffered fools gladly and rarely made allowances. He was hard and fast in his judgements and I rarely remember him admitting to an error!

My father always felt he was destined for higher things so was a restless soul. No home, job, location ever satisfied. He was a man who loved to make plans.....the crazier the better!

My father loved a good laugh and sarcasm was his preferred style. Since we shared the same sense of humour we often had plenty to laugh about!

My father and I shared a psychic energy. I could often feel his feelings.....negative emotions were the strongest.

My father was misunderstood. He left this earth in an abrupt way. He clung onto life and would never prepare for death. 
The end would have been a shock but hopefully his soul has had safe passage to the other side.

My father never settled and stayed hungry. He was constantly looking for the next best thing......even when he hadn't a clue what that was.

Four weeks on from my father's death, I am a changed person. Someone is missing and will always be for me. My father's place will never be filled. There's an emptiness that reminds me that he is gone. 

Gone.....but only from this physical world. He lives on in me...and my brothers.....and that's a whole new world of discovery.

My father's daughter I will always be.....and for that I'm proud. 

Dad, whatever you're doing in easy! 




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