Words are flying out like rain into a paper cup
A week in Scotland with my dad was a whole seventeen days too long. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing him and my brothers however, there is a limit to how long you can talk to someone without any feedback to keep the conversation going. He seems to spend all his time thinking about himself, if you try to add him into a conversation (we were discussing Harry Potter as there is an exhibition in London I would like to go to and parts of the Franchise were filmed near me at Alnwick Castle) but when anyone asked him a question he would go off on one of his own topics (himself mainly) and attempt to steer the conversation to talking about his time in the RAF when he did his National Service, or how the Fife MP of the sixties would repeat Prime Minister Wilson’s words as that was Labour Party Policy.
He had no interest in learning what was being discussed by the family and joining in the conversation. It was very hard for me to get him to say anything at all, according to my brother that has only started recently but he will never shut up when either of my brothers pay a visit. My youngest brother said that he can go round and say that he’s going on holiday with his wife without either of his daughters, and dad will say something along the lines of “The ambulance will have to pick up 3 people after I get on, so it’ll be almost dinner time when we arrive at the hospice.” He’s never interested in what anyone else does so never asks where they are going or what they will be doing. This only bears out what my mum told me when she was alive that he is very selfish and self-centred and I think she would have left him before she died if she had somewhere to go. I did offer to put her up until she found somewhere of her own but being old school she wouldn’t even consider living with me and my family in our house, her house would have been different but not in ours.
She kept saying that she wished she was as brave as me and could walk out and get a divorce, but I never thought she would die living a lie, of course I was the only one of her three sons she ever had that particular conversation with so I never mention it to either of my brothers or their wives. She never even discussed it in front of my second wife or my daughter so there’s no-one I could talk to without it sounding as though I was trying to get my own back on my dad for treating her so badly. I know I should be able to forgive him for all the pain and hurt he caused to mum and I but somehow I can’t and I think he knows he will never really be forgiven for all the times he would beat me and tell me how useless I was and how much of a disappointment to him I was. How I would never amount to anything and would always be struggling to make ends meet. I think that has a lot to do with my moodiness and lack of self-esteem. It’s probably also the reason why I often think everyone would be better off if I were dead, especially since my children seem to be doing so much better without worrying about me.
Anyway, this is becoming maudlin which always brings me to tears so I won’t continue with this and hopefully I can be more upbeat in my next blog post, dear reader.