Six o’clock this morning I woke up and wrote this thinking of my dad.

 

 

I wanted to say I love you, but I could not say the words

I wanted to say I love you, but I knew you’d think it  absurd

I wanted to say I love you, when you held me in your arms so tight

I wanted to say I love you, when in the  distance I saw a light

I wanted to say I love you, when the world was all a blur

I wanted to say I love you, when at that moment I did not care

I wanted to say I love you, even though those things weren’t said

I wanted to say I love you, when you taught us hide them in your head

I wanted to say I love you, when towering over me that night you were so tall

I wanted to say I love you, when every day and night I felt so small

I wanted to say I love you, that night when you were there

For in the morning I could not say I love you, dad, as you were gone for evermore

 

I was in bed most of yesterday with a viral chest infection I caught from my son and I felt that poem just needed to get out so I picked up my iPad which is kept next to the bed and I started typing. As I have said and written before I felt as a young lad I was brought up quite strictly, no violence or abuse just strictly. My earliest memories were of having a kiss planted firmly on my forehead which changed quickly into a hand shake a few years to come. Now I am sure that there will be many people over the years who read this and think to themselves lucky lad he escaped the violence and abuse. From a young age we were taught that was my brother and I, to be seen and not heard. As I got older I recognised a feeling of fear that came over me as  my dads key was placed in the front door and the door slowly opened.

How many children just kick their shoes off without untying the laces? My dad would tie the laces into tiny knots around ten to twenty knots per shoe and  we would have to untie them before we could use them again. If we had no homework we would have an hours reading and writing that my dad would then check and if there were spelling mistakes we would have to check every single word. If our bedrooms were left a little untidy my dad would go into our bedroom and pull everything out of our cupboards, everything, and leave it in a big pile on the bedroom floor.

I remember having three paper rounds as a young boy and working in a sweet shop too numbering all the papers for the other paper rounds. I used to get up really early, sometimes at four thirty. I remember once, when I was out on my paper round standing under a big tree one morning as the rain was falling all around me, this big tree sheltered me from that cold winters morning, my bright yellow two piece waterproofs kept me dry. A street light lit the rain as it fell to the ground and the branches of the tree glowed a warm orange as the cold all around me tried to creep in, but that big old tree kept me safe.

Anyway I know my dad loved me even though I never remember him saying it, but is that a sin? I might of been rebellious but then who isn’t growing up? Maybe the way my dad was brought up, I know his father worked for the church, a vicar I think, maybe my dad being in the army had something to do with his little ways or maybe it was because he was only seventeen when he met my mum and maybe he was just too young.

What did my dad teach me? Don’t be afraid of words like I love you, sure don’t just throw them around to strangers or for no reason what so ever. No but if you truly mean them tell that person, young or old, male or female, don’t hold them inside for the day as I did when they will be locked away forever.

I promise next week I’ll talk about some porn, but maybe this week, feeling a bit ill made me think of things locked away just under the surface. Have a great week

Kendo out x