Fathers.
I didn't think I'd ever write this. It just feels like the right time.
Happy father's day friends.
My dad once told me over a pint that he thought my autistic brother was
"Sent to me as a punishment for something I did in a past life."
So yes, whilst I did have a dad to walk around at my graduation with a camera welded to his face (a gift he didn't know he was giving to us, as he is luckily not in any family videos) I didn't really have one in the sense I learned other people did, as I grew older. He was dead behind the eyes, unless he was bullying the local council or my mum, which brought him profound joy. I avoided talking to him about any problem, because it would at some point be used against me in some surreal argument over nothing. I remember one incident where he went into school to defend me against kids calling me a faggot. Guess what he called me when I got home?
Once I'd become numb to the taunts, I remarked around my 18th birthday to friends that "He feels more like an annoying mate than a dad sometimes" and that's true. He was only really good for buying cider for you. Throughout uni he conveniently only called me when he knew I was in class, and always wanted to come on booze ups. When I called home, he'd always answer, and I would always tell him to put mum on the phone. I like to think it upset him, that it put some dent in his unreasonable ego.
One time, when my sister’s cat was being taken to the vets to be put down due to a resurgence of an aggressive, incurable cancer, she called me. My dad got in the way of the call, blabbering about some meaningless shit as my sister tried to put the phone to Kizzy’s basket, so I could hear her meow one last time. I remember that day well because I was teaching a class at the time, and stood outside to have that phone call before returning, burying my feelings about the whole thing for the next hour and a half, and then for more time when I got ‘home’ to my flat. I waited until everyone was asleep before I reacted to the news, as I always do, as I learnt to since childhood. It is far, far easier than letting people know what upsets you. Because that is a weakness. I learnt that from my dad.
I'm glad he is gone.
But the story doesn't end there. I did have a positive father figure. My grandfather, who was a boxer and to this day is healthier than people 50 years younger than him. There is a picture of him in the 50s or 60s which I saw when I was 16, and it is a big part of why I grew sideburns.
A few years back he had a heart attack. Shortly afterwards my mum drove him down to our house in Manchester and spent the day with him. My dad came into the room I was in and asked me angrily “Why should he get all the attention?”
That is the dad I remember. If you left him alone for five minutes he would lose his fucking mind, just like your neighbour’s nightmarish bastard dog. So desperate for validation he was, that the mere writing of this article stresses me out. If he finds it, he will no doubt use it to get as much attention as possible. What might become of me, will I be sued? Threatened? Called names?
It’s exciting. But in truth I don’t care any more. I’m not writing this for me.
It’s for you.
My grandfather, being a kind soul, always made cheese sandwiches for my dad, upon request. In recent years I think he struggled with it because of his arthritis, but it didn’t stop him.
And after my parents split, he called my dad
"A waste of cheese"
which I think answers the question as to where I got my sense of humour.
So my point is, you don’t need a conventional father figure.
You get to choose who you look up to, who you admire, who you are inspired by.
Choose wisely.
Thanks Granddad. You’ve made me the man I am today.
-Phill
There will eventually be a part two. It will be more conceptual, more artistically inclined, and it will involve a man who I never met, despite trying to on several occasions. Here's a clue.