This coming Saturday, 1st November is the 6th anniversary of my fathers death. He died from cancer. He also died on my brothers birthday. When this date comes around every year I tend to get a little melancholy and with what has been happening in my life over the last few weeks, I guess this year I am feeling extra melancholy, extra reflective and sad. My father and I did not have the best relationship, I mean we were like chalk and cheese. He being a very old fashioned, moralistic mans man. And then there's me the exact opposite. But what did bring me closer to my dad was how he accepted my homosexuality. His behaviour and his love for me never faltered when I told him. I honestly thought that me being gay would end any type of relationship I had with him, but he surprised me completely with his reaction and I can clearly remember the first words he said to me....."Son, if you're happy, I'm happy."
We used to quarrel sometimes, usually over my frivolous lifestyle, but he was only concerned, which is natural for a father. He was not a very affectionate man, in fact my family are not affectionate at all, maybe that's why I crave it, but I know deep down he loved me completely.
I remember the day he died. We all knew it was going to come and even tho you think you are prepared for this day, when it arrives, you're not. I received a phone call from my mother. It was early morning and instantly I knew. The tone and the quivering of her voice and then I just screamed. Then I remember this stranger on the other end. It was a man trying to calm me down. He had the calmest, most beautiful voice. I don't know who it was but I know my mum couldn't talk as naturally she was very sad and my reaction made it worse. Then the rest is a blur.
Two things made this extremely sad for me and still do. One seeing my mother. I have never and I don't think will ever see her so uncontrollably emotional. Knowing I had to be strong for her was a difficult thing to pull off. I remember hiding behind the garden shed crying. Here I was, a man of 33, hiding because he didn't want his mother to see him upset because he wanted to protect her. The other thing that I couldn't come to grips with and still at times don't comprehend is that I will never see him again. I know I can look at old photos, but the man who made me, the man who tried his hardest to guide me and raise me to be a good person will never stand in front of me, beside me. I will never hear his voice. I can't ring him for advice or to just say hello. That is what's worse for me. That complete feeling of loss. It's a similar feeling I guess when you break up with somebody you love. That feeling of losing familiarity and security and love, except when somebody dies, somebody you have had in your life for 60 years, the feeling is 50 times, maybe 100 times worse. What you are left with tho is memories. Some of them not so good, but most of them great. And of course, you have the photos. Both of these will always make you smile, laugh and of course cry.
I very rarely told my Dad that I loved him, and if there is a regret I have, it is that. Maybe he is sitting beside me now while I'm writing this. Maybe he walks beside me everyday. I'd like to think he does and if he can hear me I'd like to say to him, "I love you and I miss you."
2 comments:
Your dad died just five weeks before mine did. Mine was also early, 6.30am. The call came whilst I was asleep and I knew as I leant over to answer the phone what the call was about even though he had been ill for only a short time and I hadn't realised how close to death he was.
There are other similarities. My dad also did not show his emotions, yet I know he loved me more than anything. I never told my father I was gay but I always believed he knew, and whilst he preferred it wasn't so, I know his love for me did not diminish.
Hey Victor,
I think men, fathers, of that generation were like that. and every year at this time i get reflective and a little sad. I guess that will always happen.
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