grey skies and lost words

Tags

family, father, first typewriter, love, miscellaneous, old typewriter, random, thoughts, typewriters, writing

The grey skies overhead are very befitting of my thoughts and feelings today. On this day last year my father had slipped into a coma and it was only a matter of hours before he died. I was restless all day, not wanting to lose him with so much still left unsaid and much more still not known about him, but I didn’t want him to suffer any longer and hoped that he would soon be pain-free.

I tried to get my mind off the sadness that is weighing on my heart today by reorganizing my study, but now all I have succeeded in doing is have piles of files, stationary and folders filled with bills and who knows what cluttering up the floor, desk, guest-bed and shelves. But while I was tearing up old paperwork and trying to figure out why I kept certain things my eye fell on my fathers old typewriter.

My dad was an old-fashioned hack through and through. He loved the news and adored words and phrases, but he never really was one for computers and always wrote on a real typewriter. When I was about 8 years-old he gave me my first typewriter, a black one with a lid and carrying handle, not so dissimilar from the one that now lives under my desk. I remember how excited I was and how many sheets of paper I filled with random strings of letters as I really couldn’t type. I tried to emulate my dad and type letters and articles but half way through a sentence I’d get fed up with the fact that things where going too slow and hammer away like mad thing pretending I was in a busy newsroom, writing nothing that made any sense but having the time of my life.

So while I sit here in my chaos missing the man I once knew and loved so much my hands stroke the hard plastic cover on his old typewriter and my eyes fill up with tears. I can’t help but miss him and wonder what else he would have written if he had had the time and long with all my heart for just one more letter in the post typed by him and filled with the stories he told. And what wouldn’t I give to read the few last lines scrawled in pen, telling me he’d love me always and sealed this promise with X’s and O’s .

As thoughts and memories of him flood my mind all I can think is that I will always love him too and seal it with my own silent hugs and kisses and mourn all the lost words still left between us.

party of me

Tags

family, father, feelings, home, love, memories, miscellaneous, photo, random, relationships, The Commitments, thoughts

Yesterday was fathers-day, at least in a big part of the world. And while I was browsing the blogosphere and stumbled upon more than many blogs on fathers, fathers-day and loving fathers, I grew more and more upset.

My father died last year on the sixth of July and with only a few weeks to go till this anniversary he is very much on my mind and heart. I can’t help but wonder about what I lost and the time we didn’t have together, remembering my childhood with and my growing up without him. And as words of love, thanks and happiness spilt from my computer screen into my lap tears dropped from my eyes onto my keyboard.

But at some point I decided that it changes nothing to be upset about something that you have lost and will never get back so instead I decided to celebrate what still lies ahead of me. I poured myself a glass of wine, broke of a piece of dark chocolate and let The Commitments play.

As I danced barefoot on my own in my living-room and sang loud, off-key and happily along to some good old soulful songs, I remembered happy times in my life, some with my dad some without. I let myself envision a future filled with love and fulfilled dreams, a time so full of laughter and happiness that sorrow would be a forgotten word. But as The Commitments sang “Bye Bye Baby” I twirled back into reality and looked at my dads photo on my bookshelf.

It is of a younger him, one I didn’t know and one that my mother fell in love with. His dark curly hair and beard frame a face I loved so much and he is holding his newspaper in one hand and probably a cigarette in his other, his mug of coffee in front of him and a private smile plays on his lips. And as tears welled back up into my eyes I could hear his voice in my head telling me “to be good”, and as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks I promise him I will try.

And so what if I am a little upset, it is my party and I’ll cry if I want to, there has to be some benefits of a party of me after all.

daddy’s girl

Tags

childhood, daddy, family, father, love, memories, miscellaneous, random, thoughts

It’s my daddy’s birthday today, well it would have been if he hadn’t died last year in the summer. I miss him and when I looked at my calendar this morning a little surge of sadness quivered through me.

I was always a daddy’s girl, even though for most of my life he wasn’t around. And as a blond little girl with big blue eyes I looked up to him and wanted to be just like the man I saw and loved. I may have inherited his mad curls, dodgy eye and love for words but thankfully the urge to smoke cigarettes and pipes passed me by. Although I have to admit that I love the smell of tobacco and do feel a little bit nostalgic whenever my nose catches a whiff.

Some of my favourite memories of my father circle around his love of telling stories. He was a real Seanchaí (an Irish story teller) who would light up his pipe, pull my sister and myself onto the couch and into a world of heroes, fairies, witches and long gone adventures. His deep voice and winding words would paint pictures of old legends and made up stories featuring him in the lead role.

And he was fun, he would play tricks and silly games with us, his big smile barely visible beneath his curly beard and his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. One of my favourite pictures of him sits on my shelf and shows a happy memory. He is perched on top of the wall outside my childhood home with my sister and I draped around him, both of us trying to get as close to him as possible. With a Frisbee crowning his head and two plastic rings dangling from his ears he’s defining his position as the biggest tuddlebuddle in the world, my sister and I coming in second and third.

My heart broke when he left us or we left him (it was always a little unclear) and although I always missed him with an ache I never doubted that he loved me even if I never understood what happened.  I am thankful for all those moments spent with him and memories that flood my being and I feel sad that my brother never really got to know him. So today I just want to feel a little bit sad about all I lost, never had and let the man who defined me so much know I will always be my daddy’s girl.

The importance of fathers