Friday, 18 October
Today is my dad’s birthday and, for the first time on this date in around 20 years, he wasn’t the first thought as I woke. That honour went to my sons on this occasion, in part because they have become the centre of the universe but mostly because their crying stirred me.
The significance of this date is an interesting one arguably taking on more weight after his death; 18/10 serving a reminder of what no longer was. Over the years it, along with 21/3 became weights around my neck and ever-expanding elephants in the room as my immediate family held on to some misplaced notion that not marking either of them would be a smear against his memory.
Twenty five days ago a date previously insignificant to me became the most. A moment not lost on me in the madness of the morning of Monday 23 September as I scribbled it’s abbreviated version on a car exchange document before heading back to the hospital for the imminent arrival of Fox and Fred.
On the evening of their birth thoughts naturally led towards my dad. Specifically his absence and how I wished he were here to meet them, to meet me as I now am in this stage of life. It couldn’t be, though and I knew as much as quickly as I’d longed for it.
“If he’s here these aren’t.”
Sure, I may have had children at another stage of life but there’s no escaping that my life took a path as a direct result of his passing which led me to a cafe in Leigh-on-Sea on that Sunday in 2021, to meeting Jade, to having these children.
And these are the only one’s I have. Not the hypothetical, alternate time line children. Put simply, Fox and Fred do not exist if my dad is alive and, having falling in love with them instantly, I quickly (and surprisingly) reconciled with his death being the heart-breaking deposit I’d paid for these children and there’s a guilt in admitting I’m OK with that and, having me them, I couldn’t possibly change the way it played out if the opportunity presented itself.
It had to be this way; the suffering, healing, learning, rebuilding in order to be better prepared as a man to father these boys.
But it wouldn’t be long before I felt his absence again…
Monday, 14 October
Shots fired!
Three weeks into fatherhood and wanting to write about the heart-melting experience of my brother meeting his nephews, I was hit with the reality of being three years deep into my second tour of duty with a narcissistic parent.
The bliss-like bubble of weeks one and two now akin to a bullet hole-ridden bladder of a football.
I’ve been here before. Of the 10 years with my ex, six were spent in combat with her mother, battle reaching a crescendo during the last three.
We learned what we were up against as a couple but fought on very different fronts. The verbal attacks on my character and family drew the response she was looking for to suit the narrative built in her head. My ego demanded accountability and apologies. Neither would come.
Entering a new relationship I was eager to feel what it is to be liked by the parents again. To enjoy a ‘normal’ relationship with them.
It started well enough, though my need to be liked was unwittingly supplying the rope she wanted to hang me with and over the course of the past year, I’ve found myself fighting a familiar though, increasingly overt and malevolent threat than the previous.
You can’t help but ask what your role is. Well, I couldn’t.
This week it made me want my dad. This time thinking he’d somehow protect me. Forty one years old. Father of two. Wishing my dad was standing here so I could stand behind him.
When the boys were born, I felt they’d given me permission, though of what I wasn’t sure. I knew I’d learn from them though I didn’t know what.
Twenty one days in, the specifics are starting to roll in.
I stepped out from behind my dad, set firm boundaries to protect my mental wellbeing and, in response to those shots fired, dished out an act of modern warfare by leaving the family WhatsApp group and blocking those threats to my peace.
They can’t shoot what they can’t see.
Fox and Fred, without you I don’t think I’d have believed I could do it without my dad, that I was worth it.
Thanks to you though, I am the dad and I’ve got a job to do.
Fuck ‘em.
