Today is Father’s Day, the day when we pay tribute to the men who raised us, biological or otherwise, and because Father’s Day is so close to the anniversary of my own Father’s passing I’ve been thinking about the old man quite a lot over the past few days. Which is why I’m posting this here now.
Dad, I’m sorry.
Mum and Dad had ten kids, spread out over twenty years, with me being the youngest. At this moment in time there are seven of us still around. I had a sister who died when she was still an infant, a brother who I never really knew who died in his forties and another brother who died in his fifties.
By the time Dad passed away he’d been a widower for nearly eight years, and his dying wish was that his family should stay together, should stay connected with each other, and should be there to support each other through good times and bad.
Well, we certainly fucked that one up, didn’t we?
I tried my best. I kept in touch with as many as my siblings as I could. I telephoned them and visited them, not wanting anything from them, just to see how they were, to make sure they were okay. I even opened my home to some of them when they had none of their own.
Some of them, one of them in particular, repaid me as it were, and still does to this day, but even back then it was obvious that these weren’t two-way relationships.
As the years went on it seemed as if those of us who didn’t get married and didn’t have kids became less and less important. The phone calls and the visits we hoped for never happened. We often found out about things by chance, things such as marriage breakdowns and the like, and the advent of social media meant that events such as hospitalisations, wedding and even suicide attempts were often found online.
Whenever I found out that someone was ill I’d send a message wishing them well, but that often went unanswered. When I tried to drum up support for a 50th birthday message for a brother I was greeted by a “yeah, but it’s only a number” kind of reply from someone who brought me a tankard for my 18th birthday, the same person who promised to make a big deal for my 21st (they never did though.)
These days I’m content to follow suit as it were, because after a nephew posted on Facebook that his father was ill in hospital a few years ago said “that’s the done thing these days.” There just doesn’t seem any point in ringing around people to tell them what’s going on with my life and how I’m feeling, especially those who have grown so far away from me they either don’t reply or try to gaslight me.
If you want to find out how I’m healing after my lung and diaphragm surgery, or you want to know how I get on with the battery of tests before I see the cardiologist next month keep your eyes on my blog or my social media accounts to find out more. Just don’t complain when a guy called Sheldon from New England or that Australian bloke who used to send me wrestling DVDs find out before you, because, after all, it’s the done thing these days.
And Dad, and Mum as well, sorry we’ve let you down. I’m willing to take the blame if the others do as well.
Dad, I’m sorry.
Mum and Dad had ten kids, spread out over twenty years, with me being the youngest. At this moment in time there are seven of us still around. I had a sister who died when she was still an infant, a brother who I never really knew who died in his forties and another brother who died in his fifties.
By the time Dad passed away he’d been a widower for nearly eight years, and his dying wish was that his family should stay together, should stay connected with each other, and should be there to support each other through good times and bad.
Well, we certainly fucked that one up, didn’t we?
I tried my best. I kept in touch with as many as my siblings as I could. I telephoned them and visited them, not wanting anything from them, just to see how they were, to make sure they were okay. I even opened my home to some of them when they had none of their own.
Some of them, one of them in particular, repaid me as it were, and still does to this day, but even back then it was obvious that these weren’t two-way relationships.
As the years went on it seemed as if those of us who didn’t get married and didn’t have kids became less and less important. The phone calls and the visits we hoped for never happened. We often found out about things by chance, things such as marriage breakdowns and the like, and the advent of social media meant that events such as hospitalisations, wedding and even suicide attempts were often found online.
Whenever I found out that someone was ill I’d send a message wishing them well, but that often went unanswered. When I tried to drum up support for a 50th birthday message for a brother I was greeted by a “yeah, but it’s only a number” kind of reply from someone who brought me a tankard for my 18th birthday, the same person who promised to make a big deal for my 21st (they never did though.)
These days I’m content to follow suit as it were, because after a nephew posted on Facebook that his father was ill in hospital a few years ago said “that’s the done thing these days.” There just doesn’t seem any point in ringing around people to tell them what’s going on with my life and how I’m feeling, especially those who have grown so far away from me they either don’t reply or try to gaslight me.
If you want to find out how I’m healing after my lung and diaphragm surgery, or you want to know how I get on with the battery of tests before I see the cardiologist next month keep your eyes on my blog or my social media accounts to find out more. Just don’t complain when a guy called Sheldon from New England or that Australian bloke who used to send me wrestling DVDs find out before you, because, after all, it’s the done thing these days.
And Dad, and Mum as well, sorry we’ve let you down. I’m willing to take the blame if the others do as well.
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ReplyDeleteGood evening Julian,
ReplyDeleteI see again how you are trying to tarnish the family's name by airing your dirty laundry on facebook and on here I'd like to remind you of a few facts that have happened over the years!
1. I remember my dad getting a call saying you needed help on more than one occasions and my dad being the man he is has came to your aid
2 I remember auntie Sue getting a call and her and uncle Martin coming to your aid both of these occasions in he middle of the night funny how you forget about that
3. After everything that happened last year with the wedding me not inviting you and you treating me the way you did I still was the bigger person and messaged you to let you know I was thinking of you and wished you well when you were in hospital but it appears you did not see this message very conviently.
I am done with you tarnishing my family reputation with your out and out lies at some point maybe you need to look in the mirror and go maybe I am to blame for this or am a Contributing factor we have openly admitted that we have not kept in touch with the family over the years, I seriously think you needed to look at your pitty party and revaluate because you are to blame as well
As for posting about are private life's I just thought I would return the favour I know for sure In My 30 years on this planet that I'm a damsite more mature than you are so enjoy your life because this is the last time you will here from any of us
Tasha
P. S dad said you want your crappy bible back feel free to come and get it but then again I don' think you've actually visited us since I was little funny that
Tasha, let me put this to you:
ReplyDeleteIf you had contacted me by telephone, instead of by Facebook Messenger, things may have changed dramatically for everyone.
I would have known instantly that you'd contacted me and that you showed concern. Instead your message laid dormant on Messenger because I restricted your access to me. I didn't actually know you'd sent it to me until you told me you had six months later.
Also, by contactly me directly you would have known first-hand exactly how seriously ill I was, and how this illness continues to affect me to this day. You could have relayed that information to your Father and to your Aunt Sue, and it may have opened their eyes a little. They may have realised just how bad things have been for me.
I'm not going to get into a long drawn-out debate about who did what any more. I learned during my time in hospital who I could rely on. When I was so ill and the pain was so bad that I thought I was going to die I learned just who my family was.
Good luck for the future little one.
PS - if your Father really doesn't want the bible, the family heirloom that Mum and Dad wanted to pass down through the generations, I would be more than willing to reimburse him if he posted it to me. I think he knows the address.