27-Feb-1933 to 05-Oct-2005
I don't remember many times when my father let himself be a Daddy. When he did, it was with a passion for fun that spoke of an ample and mischievous soul. Singing "A Policeman's lot is not a happy one" or driving me into yet another crunching bumper car shunt at the fair, the man he really was came out of the shadows and danced in light.
His stroke two years ago limited his love of life to a painful degree; "Heal me for my bones are vexed... I am weary with my groaning (Psalms 6).
Despite the lock put upon his speech, I could still hear his words. My love of language comes from him; driven into me in fact, almost with brogue nails. I needed a copy of the Oxford English to reveal my own sins throughout my teens.
Though my relationship with Dad was one of extremes and frequently troubled, he always commanded my respect and trust. My life sucks? Call Dad. Don't know what to do? Call Dad. What decision to make? Call Dad!
After my parents' divorce, my relationship with him shifted. First, to uneasy truce, then to friendship. I started to see the whole man. To see the constraints put upon him by past events, especially his father's departure for war.
I'm told that some of the happiest days of his life began during National Service in Arborfield. He met my mother at the Majestic ballroom, impressing her with his style and elan. He was marked down for his Charleston however!
I only ever saw him dance in my imagination; often when he was Mien Host or playing Spoof.
He loved to say of me, "When she's good, she's very, very good. When she's bad, she's horrid!". Always said with a twinkle in his eye and a glance toward the nearest mirror.
The moment I am most grateful for now was the one where I finally looked him square on and said "I love you Dad... I may not always like you, but I DO love you".
So raise your glass for one last toast my father :
"I sing to life, and to its tragic beauty.
To pain and to strife and to all that dances through me.
The rise and the fall, I lived through it all".
(Canto Alla Vita)
Fiona Wilson
11/10/2005
I don't remember many times when my father let himself be a Daddy. When he did, it was with a passion for fun that spoke of an ample and mischievous soul. Singing "A Policeman's lot is not a happy one" or driving me into yet another crunching bumper car shunt at the fair, the man he really was came out of the shadows and danced in light.
His stroke two years ago limited his love of life to a painful degree; "Heal me for my bones are vexed... I am weary with my groaning (Psalms 6).
Despite the lock put upon his speech, I could still hear his words. My love of language comes from him; driven into me in fact, almost with brogue nails. I needed a copy of the Oxford English to reveal my own sins throughout my teens.
Though my relationship with Dad was one of extremes and frequently troubled, he always commanded my respect and trust. My life sucks? Call Dad. Don't know what to do? Call Dad. What decision to make? Call Dad!
After my parents' divorce, my relationship with him shifted. First, to uneasy truce, then to friendship. I started to see the whole man. To see the constraints put upon him by past events, especially his father's departure for war.
I'm told that some of the happiest days of his life began during National Service in Arborfield. He met my mother at the Majestic ballroom, impressing her with his style and elan. He was marked down for his Charleston however!
I only ever saw him dance in my imagination; often when he was Mien Host or playing Spoof.
He loved to say of me, "When she's good, she's very, very good. When she's bad, she's horrid!". Always said with a twinkle in his eye and a glance toward the nearest mirror.
The moment I am most grateful for now was the one where I finally looked him square on and said "I love you Dad... I may not always like you, but I DO love you".
So raise your glass for one last toast my father :
"I sing to life, and to its tragic beauty.
To pain and to strife and to all that dances through me.
The rise and the fall, I lived through it all".
(Canto Alla Vita)
Fiona Wilson
11/10/2005
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