The father son discord - In the name of Thiago - Day 292
I've been hurting a lot today. Yesterday, as I wrote in the blog, was the old man's birthday. I've had one of my phenomenal swearing fits this evening when I flipped at a fairly casual remark from Angelica relating to a text conversation she'd been having with my Dad about how happy he'd been to see us on his birthday. The old man who I'm close to renaming Mr Creosote for the purposes of this blog and my own entertainment - hates the way that I keep at him for staying on top of things that should be within his compass and he made further reference to that today.
You see, I know how this is going to end up. He'll continue to do fuck all, expect everything to be done for him and then before you know it, we WILL have to everything for him because he'll have got so used to doing absolutely fuck all. The question I'm asking myself is, will I give enough of a shit to help when he's ignored every offer of help that I have put his way while he still has his faculties?
Sounds harsh doesn't it? The answer's still yes by the way. But then this is the relationship I have with my son - visiting a grave. I often resent the fact that my father has shown me so little love in 44 years. If he's proud of me, he's rarely said it and while I know that it was different for his generation - men were frowned upon for showing any emotional sensitivities in the 1700s - a part of me is finding it extremely hard to forgive.
I showed more love to my son in nine months than I've received in my lifetime from him. For balance, I should say that I've let him and my mum down numerous times. I made enough fuck ups for me and my two siblings combined, but a parent never stops loving their child. I think the problem for my Dad was that he probably never started. When I finished my walk last week, while he conveniently arrived too late to see all the cheering, he just stood around keen instead to make the day about his story in trying to get there. I went in for a hug with him and he just backed off. I don't want to hug him now, I don't want to help him. I am upset.
This wondrous little fellow never asked for anything. I think it's a thing in life that if you never ask for anything, it is that much easier to love. I could never give Thiago enough in his tragically short lifetime but what I am pledging to do, is to keep giving to him in the form of his legacy for as long as I have the energy and the capability to do so. For there's no fucking point in sitting on your arse and telling everyone how shit everything is. It starts from within as some truly fucking annoying life coach twat undoubtedly once said.
Well that's that said and out. As one of my teachers at Willingdon School said of me in 1991, 'Chris has a lot of inner anger that needs expression'. He wasn't fucking wrong. Little did he know, I'd be blogging every day to that effect nearly 30 years later!
It's not too late to contribute to the fundraiser - after a flurry of donations following the Midlands Today transmission yesterday, I've now raised more than £21,500 and that's without Gift Aid. I've done well. I should focus on more positive things.