Father’s day doesn’t mean much to me, I haven’t had a father since the age of 5, he killed himself. No, not in the normal sense of “Suicide” but rather through continuous alcohol abuse, he was a raging alcoholic.
He came from a long lineage of addicts. My grandparents on his side, also both deceased, were drug addicts addicted to painkillers and alcohol. He grew up surrounded by pill popping and physical abuse. His punishment was to be locked in the cellar for hours on end with no food, nothing to drink, no toilet and no light, a prison. At the age of 16 he ran away from home and joined the navy, forging his Identity documents that proved his age, he was accepted and trained up as a Cartographer.
He led an interesting life and an even more interesting life after his death. I say after his death for the fact that, once he had passed on, people that were close to him used him to cover up their own “misdemeanours”. Another thing I am not going to get into as it is for them to admit it to the people involved, not me. No, I am not protecting him but rather stating that once you are dead it seems people will use you as an excuse, that fact makes me sad.
Perhaps I am blessed, perhaps I am cursed, I remember things from the age of 2.
I remember him riding his motorbike and me being in love with that huge chunk of metal.
I remember when he walked through the front door with my first bike, a little yellow scooter. When he gave me his spare set of keys and cut a hole in the bike so that I could pretend it was a real one.
I remember him giving me his spare helmet so that I could be a real biker and how we used to wash our bikes together outside in the summer sun.
I remember being scared of him, if I hurt myself I had to bite on my lip so as not to cry, no one was allowed to cry in our house. He didn’t know how to handle it and hated it. If someone cried he start shouting.
I remember him leaving his milk on the table the one day and me thinking it looked yummy. Taking a sip only to immediately throw it up, it tasted funny, not like the milk I was used to. It had vodka in.
I remember the 5 litres bottles of wine in the house, how the house smelt of it everyday, I can still smell it. He would finish 5 litres in one day no problems, he loved wine, he loved vodka, he loved getting drunk, he loved not being a hundred percent there, not facing his demons.
I remember playing outside with him, siting on his shoulders and the feeling of his beard on my cheeks.
I remember the day I was told he had died, I remember knowing that he had gone to a better place, he had climbed the stairs to heaven like the Led Zeppelin song. He was gone.
I remember the doctors at the hospital telling my mother that they could do nothing, that it wasn’t their fault that he had died before we could get there. He died from sclerosis of the liver and undetected cancer 2 weeks after giving up alcohol. He was 39, I was 5.
I have no hard feelings towards him, for the life that came to me after his death nor do I blame him for anything. In some senses I am grateful that he died when he did for I still have a few happy memories. I can live with not knowing the sound of his voice, the feeling of having my father hug me, if it means that I have those few memories. I am blessed, not everyone is as lucky as I am.
People have children without any thought of the actual child, what they do to them or what they teach them. To a lot of people it is just an instinctual mistake, some do it to get money from the state and others do it for playmates.
You are blessed if you have kids, your children are blessed if you take their lives seriously… harsh?
Don’t take their lives for granted, don’t take your actions for granted. You’d be surprised what they remember, what you are really teaching them, how they will remember you.
My father was a raging alcoholic, extroverted on the outside but introverted in everything else, my father killed himself. Am I sad, angry, upset? No, not at all, I have little emotion regarding my father, I never got the chance, I was blessed.
Don’t take your father for granted, if he’s a man you can admire let him know, if he is one that has treated you right, done right by you, let him know… and thank him from me, because what you have there is a miracle, a pure miracle. Don’t take it for granted.
Happy Father’s day to all the fathers that do right by their kids, that cherish them the way that they should be, who love them as if their lives depended on them, who would do anything for them. Happy Fathers Day and thank you for doing what you are doing, it touches more than just your kids hearts, it touches mine.
Happy Fathers Day!