I posted the above tweet on Father’s Day. Sure, it’s like all my tweets, a bit of a joke. Bitter sweet. My dad did die four years ago, and peculiarly, and for the first time, I found myself missing him.
I suppose it was all those proud pictures posted by my facebook friends of their dads. They had an entirely different relationship with their fathers. I felt jealous, which was a surprise. And, it made me sad. I wish I’d had something like that. It made me decide to write this little blog.
My dad wasn’t the traditional dad. He never cared it was Father’s Day until he was a lot older. I don’t think he felt like a dad at all.
He wasn’t really interested in me until later in life when I made a concerted effort to get to know him—which was worth the effort. He was embarrassed about his younger behaviour and wished he’d done things differently, but we both knew it was too late. He was a selfish rogue, a womaniser, weak and a chronic alcoholic. It feels disrespectful to say this, particularly on my blog. But that’s the truth.
Dad was never interested in me as a child, instead he seemed to despise me, which was very hard for the sensitive kid that I was. In adult life, I adopted a sort of bluster, a larger than life personality designed to cope with my inner insecurities. And despite of my confident veneer, the sensitive kid is never far away. It’s difficult and perhaps impossible to ever shake off the disdain of a father. I suppose the conventional wisdom would say this that this has probably had an adverse effect upon my life, on who I am, yet I find it tough to apportion blame. But you know what? I really wished the old git had shown a bit of interest when it mattered. Just a little.
When I got to know him again in later life, I always told him I loved him. It embarrassed him at first, but then after a long time, and like a piece of magic, he finally said it back to me. It became the end of all our phone conversations because I made sure that the last words he would ever say to me were “I love you, too, Son.” It’s not much compensation, but I’m glad for that.
I love you, Dad, you stupid, useless, boozy, old, dead git.