Dear Dad,
In 1960 I was four years of age. In my eyes your were a big man. Tall and heavy. You were clever and holy. You worked hard. You liked music and playing cards. You listened to the wireless on match days. You were chatty with neighbours and friends. Generally well liked and respected.
Unlike nowadays our interaction was minimal. It’s hard to explain. You weren’t involved in checking homework, supporting tennis matches, reading bedtime stories. To be honest, I can’t even remember one conversation we ever had. I guess at the time that’s just how it was and I never knew any different.
Now of course I do know how different Dads are. When I saw the relationship between my husband and our children grow, it began to dawn on me.
The bond and friendship they have is something we will never know. The loving, natural, easy way they have with each other is a constant surprise to me. It has grown and continued into their adult hood. The happiness it has brought into my life is unending.
Maybe we were just of our time. They tell me that you liked to sing to me when I was in the cradle. When I think of you now I think of that, it makes me smile.
Patricia