47 and one week
This may
mean nothing to you but my life changed with these numbers; my dad died then.
This head
ache has been following me around for a few weeks now and over the years I have
come to expect it, my subconscious is fighting a battle with my conscious not
to let me get upset and break down in floods of tears. My heart ache is
repeated year after year since my dad’s passing, I try to push it to one side
but it just slowly creeps back in like the cancer that killed him. My
concentration is not good around the anniversary of his death but this year is
special; I am going to be his age when he died.
I don’t know
if that has bothered anyone else who’s dad or mam died young but is has haunted
me for a few years now as it has crept closer and closer to the day. When dad
died, he had done so much in his life from being a teddy boy and good amateur boxer,
he was so good he got asked to turn pro but became a marine engineer because he
had to have a trade to fall back on, as it was not a proper job (where have I
heard that before?) As a marine engineer, he travelled all over the world from
Argentina to Ghana then back to work in a factory he had worked in many years
before, he had gone full circle in his career; from North shields to the world
and back to North Shields.
His Family
life was centre around the Infamous Lynn Club, with the whole family spending
large amounts of our life in and around it’s many rooms, me having a great time
every Sunday morning on the stage playing the drums (badly) and pulling the
bingo balls from the machine and making up different names for the numbers. One
Christmas day the’ turn’ did not turn up, so as I was a budding comedian and
impressionist I got my first paid gig at the age of about 8 years old to a
packed house and my cowboy hat that I loved to wear was passed around the
concert room and was full to the brim, but to my disappointment I had to share
with my sister (she did nowt for it); If you have seen me teach you could say I
still preform today.
When my dad
would ring from Argentina, we would all huddle around the phone to have a few
minutes and I would hear tales of Gauchos and military police riding their
horses into bars and when he was in Ghana watching rituals of killing a chicken
to ward off evil spirits and the local witch doctor doing the honours.
When dad was
home the pub hours like many men of that era would be the order of the day
timed to perfection. He would finish 4 nightshifts on Friday morning go to
sleep then up for 12 off to the pub until 3pm finish home tea nap back out
until 11.30pm (if you don’t get a lock in) Saturday and Sunday repeated, but
every Sunday morning taking us all winkle picking at Seaton sluice or swimming
in Blyth Pool. When we went, winkle picking the day would be like this.
We would all
get up to the sound of Elvis or Queen blasting on our state of the art, chest
like record player that was about 4-foot-long with a turn table and a gap to
put all your LP’s in. Old clothes were put on with your wellies and buckets and
off we would go. The cliff path was crumbling and was about to fall and the
drop would be about 40 foot but when you were a kid it is all an adventure, so
we would hunt for winkles and crabs to put in our buckets and throw seaweed at
each other and get back up to the top before the tide came in or the pub
opened. Then dad would be off to North Shields for the afternoon then home for
a Sunday dinner with Mam on standby trying to keep the food hot and hope dad caught
the bus on time or the food would be cold and she would only get 6/10 for the
dinner.
After a nap dad,
would get up and we would all have a Tea tea as we called it, you know what I
mean, when you put out ham sandwiches and boiled eggs with cocktail sausages
and chocolate fingers and if you were lucky fruit salad and ice-cream. Dad
would have a wash and brush up and back out for the Sunday night session.
Growing up in the 70’s, 80’s and even into the early 90’s this was the cultural
for many household. Saturday Night was couple’s night were parents went out and
kids stayed in normally with a babysitter until you could look after
yourselves, fighting and trying to make toast and drinking all the pop in the
house even when you had just you’re your favourite of Sykes the pop man that
morning. I used to hear tales of my dad sorting out someone in the back alley,
as he was a noted fighter, but as kid I did not get what that meant until I was
a little older. (this also sounds strangely familiar)
As a family,
we had hard times and good times, sometimes with no money and sometimes loads
of money (Harry Enfield) with dad driving around in his jaguar or Granada. His
cars were a passion of his, always underneath the bonnet and getting oily with
sets of spanners all over the place, I love cars but I don’t know how to fix
them but I do try to learn. I loved watching him work I would spend hours just
sitting watching, it still gives me the warm feeling inside when I think about
it.
This may
seem odd what I have told you but My Dad’s Life, a life that was full but far too
short; On the day of his funeral as we came into Tynemouth crematorium, It was
my mam, with tears in her eyes pointing out some of the people that filled the
sides path leading to the crematorium, saying name after name and said “half of
shields is here” I said “no it looks like most of shields is here “ there were
people from all over the country attended the funeral and the wake was amazing,
we danced sang and drank and I gave the toast saying dad would have loved the
party atmosphere that day; we remembered him as in life living it to the full!
As I hit
this fateful day I feel that I have so much more left in my life to find out about,
live and love, it breaks my heart to even think about how dad felt leading up
to his death, I don’t think he had enough of life because it is no age to be
taken away, he had so much more life to live.
This changed
me in so many ways (my brother Martin and sister Sharon and my amazing mam
Gillian) we have all carried this with us through the years passing on the
stories to our kids and keeping him alive in our lives. I always find it hard
to talk about even now and the pain is always just under the surface and that
bloody bad head, when I let it out I cry floods of tears and break down with my
chest hurting from trying to be brave; but I am not brave I am sad.
Treat each
day as a gift from whoever you believe in, love life and tell people you love them,
don’t wait to do things, or say things, pick people up when they are down or
just listen to them, believe me it helps. Inspire people with your words and
deeds, go to the places you want to go, don’t be afraid to work hard but also
enjoy your life, love your family time because it is gone in an instant. Try
not to hate, if people don’t like you or do something to hurt you are your
business, let them go it is a reflection on their character not yours; don’t
carry their rubbish, let them carry their own. Live life in the now and don’t
dwell too much in the past and the future is yours for the taking. Every day of
life is a blessing because far too many people have been taken too soon!
I am far
from finished in my path
Live your
life love your path
And enjoy
getting there!
Love you dad
xxx
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