It's been a while since I wrote anything in my blog. This summer has shown me once again that I do not have the will or energy to write when serious things are happening in my life. Throughout the summer my father has been in and out of hospital in Australia and a few days ago he passed away. The situation left me feeling drained of energy or enthusiasm for anything that required me to be creative. My flatness of spirit and feelings of melancholy are feelings I rarely experience and it gives me an insight into how some people must feel when they are down. Life goes on of course in a fairly robotic way but there is little pleasure or satisfaction derived from doing things.
My father was a good man, humble and modest, and strong in his beliefs and purposes. With a work ethic and working class values born in the hard years of the 1930's depression when he grew up. Living in a large family whose father was out of work he knew what being hungry felt like. Like many working class boys he left school at 14 and started work. He felt lucky to have a job as his father didn't have a job for most of the pre-war years and he was able to contribute a few shillings a week to the family income. As a child he was undernourished and suffered from bronchitis and in later life emphysema but never complained about his condition.
He provided me with a good role model of what a father should be and I have tried, in my own way, to adapt this model and so pass it on to my children. In this way his legacy is passed on through the generations. On my last two trips to Austrailia I recorded his life story and started to form a book about our family history. When he became ill I made myself complete the book and got it printed through Lulu and sent him a copy a few weeks before he died - something I will
always be glad I did. Talking to my daughter after his death she remarked how she could hear his voice in the words I had recorded. It was the most comforting thing that anyone said to me and it made me happy to think I had done something useful to preserve his memory for those who knew and loved him. His greatest legacy is in the life he gave to so many others - 6 children, 17 grandchildren and so far - 18 great grandchildren. He and mum created our family and gave me life so that one day I might think and write these words.
My father was a good man, humble and modest, and strong in his beliefs and purposes. With a work ethic and working class values born in the hard years of the 1930's depression when he grew up. Living in a large family whose father was out of work he knew what being hungry felt like. Like many working class boys he left school at 14 and started work. He felt lucky to have a job as his father didn't have a job for most of the pre-war years and he was able to contribute a few shillings a week to the family income. As a child he was undernourished and suffered from bronchitis and in later life emphysema but never complained about his condition.
He provided me with a good role model of what a father should be and I have tried, in my own way, to adapt this model and so pass it on to my children. In this way his legacy is passed on through the generations. On my last two trips to Austrailia I recorded his life story and started to form a book about our family history. When he became ill I made myself complete the book and got it printed through Lulu and sent him a copy a few weeks before he died - something I will
always be glad I did. Talking to my daughter after his death she remarked how she could hear his voice in the words I had recorded. It was the most comforting thing that anyone said to me and it made me happy to think I had done something useful to preserve his memory for those who knew and loved him. His greatest legacy is in the life he gave to so many others - 6 children, 17 grandchildren and so far - 18 great grandchildren. He and mum created our family and gave me life so that one day I might think and write these words.
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