I’m back at work, what someone called the return to normality, things will return to normal, but the normal I knew with my father will never return.
I have not had the opportunity to be on my own and reflect until today, and writing this is an attempt to deal with the numbness and lost feeling I have in the wake of his death, I’ve seen it hundreds of times in books and films, the bond between fathers and sons, the desire to make him proud, the closeness and distance that exists, the acceptance both have of each others achievements and weaknesses.
His passing was a unique experience for me, the sense of peace, the knowledge that he had lived a full and passionate life, the understanding that I had little left to share with him as he moved on, the simplicity of holding his hand and knowing that he was leaving us, not through his choice, but because of the natural movement of life and the passing of time which cannot ever be recovered no matter how we wish it.
If I had one more day with him I could not share anything else, we shared our lives with each other to a huge extent, he saw me at my strongest and proudest, he also experienced me weak and almost beaten, but we never gave in to it, we never let life with all it’s pain and hardships overcome us, we always drove on, usually with his encouragement and I’m still here, emboldened with the courage he vested in me to carry on, to move forward, to live a life that, I can look back on from deaths perspective and feel that I have given it my all, that I have given it my best.
“Straighten yourself up”, that’s what he always said to us, carry yourself well, and face the ball, face the world, take it on and be strong, be strong for those around you, and yet with that strength be gentle, the gentle that carries those who are not so strong safely, my father had a intense dislike of bullies, he lacked respect for those who used their advantages in life to hurt others, he always advised us to take them on, the bully is a coward he said, stand up to him and he will never best you, be strong. He was a giant of a man, all 6”8” of him and yet he was at his best with babies and toddlers, they adored him, his disarming way of showing them true gentleness and fun.
His stories are legendary, I have no intention of going back over them here, the happiest times of my childhood were when we were alone together, either at the bog, down the fields, at a match or driving to Donegal in the old peugeot, with the gear lever on the steering wheel, discussing that nights Eurovision and singing “what’s another year”. They are the times I look back fondly upon, I almost broke his heart with some of my behaviour, but he would always support me, always be there for me. He was my port of last resort, and he would bail me out, we got through those times and grew closer because of them, and when he died I knew I owed him nothing except to keep his values intact, to live a life that gave of my best, that left it out there on the field, a life that would allow me to live at peace with myself.
Everyone leaves a legacy, some people leave millions of pounds, some leave heartache and sorrow, my father left neither of those, he left something far more valuable, he left me the things he valued greatly, the virtue of strength, the importance of gentleness, the necessity for dignity, the power of passion. He used to instill in me that nothing was beyond me if I had the guts and sought the education to go for it, when I was little and out with him digging holes or drains occassionally we would come up against an unmovable rock, an impossible obstacle, and he would examine it, and dig around it and then ask for a crow bar, a few well placed stones, his incredible strenght and a few minutes later the massive rock would begin to shift, as he took it out of the ground he would always say. “give me a lever long enough and I’ll move the world” You did move it big man, you did.
JP Newton 1925 – 2006 RIP Ni bheidh a leitheid aris ann.
