To the regular readers I apologise for a personal post, for the very regular readers well you are used to it, normal service will resume.
So occasionally I post something that is written for my children. I cannot say whether I write is as a cathartic exercise or as a record that I hope they will one day read, some comfort or some questions answered perhaps.
I have always been rubbish at birthdays and if I can’t remember them you can rest assured that Mother’s, Father’s and long lost Uncle day’s are never given a thought. But somehow every year Father’s day lets me know it is there, always in a different way as if it creeps up on me with some foreboding malice. This year I spent some of the preceding day celebrating a friends birthday, a lovely occasion surrounded by his family. I was unaware that this was the day before Father’s day, hell at the moment I am only vaguely aware of what day of the week it is.
So today some social media/news/other mechanism reminded me what day it was. To be fair this year it was a couple of people who had forgotten. It is OK, I have never been one for manufactured occasions after all. Then Gav kicks in and I recreate my own Father’s day post with a picture of the mortgage statement on the door mat, mans got to laugh after all and I don’t do serious do I?
Sometimes I nearly convince myself…. The truth however is that I spent an hour or so this morning with pictures of my two gorgeous children. They are old pictures, of course, from days gone by. I remember the feeling of young heads on my chest, that bond of unconditional love. I remember looking into the most gorgeous eyes knowing that they owned my soul in a way that no other ever could.
I remember us laughing at the bemused look on Emma’s face when melted ice cream ran down her arms, she decided that she liked to eat the bottom of the cone first. I remember spending a holiday with Harry compiling a scrap book of all the things that we had all done together the previous year. So many wonderful memories and all so regularly replayed, kept as fresh as the day they were made.
Should you ever read this then remember that your Fathers love is unconditional and our memories still bring wetness to this wizened, emotionless old man.