Tuesday, 16 October 2018
Remembering Dad
Remembering Dad ©
By
Michael Casey
As we move house I obviously think of my own dad, and I pause for a second so I do not cry, I’m listening to Miley Cyrus and dad would have raised the volume on the radio right now, he liked good singing too. Dad also said that if he won money he’d buy everybody a house, and he would and so would I. Total love for his children and I was the Pet. So now as I move to my next house with my own Chinese/Irish family I think with him. It was this time of year that 32 years ago I moved here, now I’m moving on but with my own family. And yes as I’ve written previously My Dad was my Best Friend.
I stop to slap on the Movelat pain killer, dad had a lot of pain in his life, the greatest probably was when he was all alone without mum by his side. Mum called his retirement years the Golden Years, but when she left him that night as they slept in the marriage bed, this really was too much for him. 8 bare weeks later he should have died alone in the very same marriage bed. But God had other plans for him. After those 12 weeks in Dudley Rd Hospital where he should have died from a fatal heart attack, instead dad went to live in an old people’s home. He lived for another 5.5 years.
We were able to show our love to him by constant visits, and I met my wife and he held a granddaughter in his arms. Then after having a hearty breakfast and asking for a 2nd boiled egg, he gave up his spirit and went to join mum. Now Autumn is here and I can remember him with happiness in my heart. I still quote him to my daughters. Do what you like but do your best being the most important quote. And when people are full of it, tell them, Talk is Cheap but Money buys Bread. He couldn’t be honest if you paid him, which may remind you of Trump. The Love of Money really is the Root of All Evil, sadly in today’s world this is more and more the case.
My dad would come home from working Saturday overtime in the Lobby at the steel works, then he’d take his boots off and wash his feet before putting his suit on and going to rattle a tin collecting for Charity at the back of Rackhams. No big Gala and Charity does for him, just front of the coalface work. And yes he knew how to swear as does any steelworker the world over does. And so do I. I am my father’s son after all. As I grow older I realise that I am more like my dad. Or sometimes I sound like own brother, or another or a 3rd. I imagine this is because we are/were a close family.
When he was angry in his later years he’d say to my sister, tell them ARSEHOLE, I’d hit the bastards with my walking stick. He’d defend us to the very last even though he was very frail by then. I’m not as frail as he was then, but I have greater empathy for him because like him I used to be as strong as an ox. Now I’m far weaker, though I am still very quick despite my size, Barry used to say it was like being hit by wood when I hit him when we were play fighting 20 years ago and more. And it still is, and I do still bite, as Laura once observed.
My dad was very mild, but you should never take that for weakness. He would and could give you a round of $$$%%^s if you deserved it. He really was a gentleman, as I try and be. I’m not one of these idiots trying to look HARD, frightening off stray dogs and making children cry. Be nice, but if you do have to be assertive, then push the NUCLEAR button. And if anybody has received a letter of complaint will attest, I take no prisoners. On the reverse of the coin, make time for God’s special people and have a kind word for little old ladies, do not rush by. Take your working boots off, and wash your feet and put your suit on and rattle a tin for charity. This can be a metaphor for just being nice in some shape or form.
I hope all of you remember your own dad with love and affection, I know I will never be as strong or as loving as my dad was for all his brood. This does not mean it was all love and kisses, far from it, and many sadnesses I will never speak of. The thing is though that my dad had the steel of love, or a blacksmith’s love running through his core. He really was a Superman, a man of steel, a man of love, made in Kerry Ireland, where supermen are forged with love, total love.
By
Michael Casey
As we move house I obviously think of my own dad, and I pause for a second so I do not cry, I’m listening to Miley Cyrus and dad would have raised the volume on the radio right now, he liked good singing too. Dad also said that if he won money he’d buy everybody a house, and he would and so would I. Total love for his children and I was the Pet. So now as I move to my next house with my own Chinese/Irish family I think with him. It was this time of year that 32 years ago I moved here, now I’m moving on but with my own family. And yes as I’ve written previously My Dad was my Best Friend.
I stop to slap on the Movelat pain killer, dad had a lot of pain in his life, the greatest probably was when he was all alone without mum by his side. Mum called his retirement years the Golden Years, but when she left him that night as they slept in the marriage bed, this really was too much for him. 8 bare weeks later he should have died alone in the very same marriage bed. But God had other plans for him. After those 12 weeks in Dudley Rd Hospital where he should have died from a fatal heart attack, instead dad went to live in an old people’s home. He lived for another 5.5 years.
We were able to show our love to him by constant visits, and I met my wife and he held a granddaughter in his arms. Then after having a hearty breakfast and asking for a 2nd boiled egg, he gave up his spirit and went to join mum. Now Autumn is here and I can remember him with happiness in my heart. I still quote him to my daughters. Do what you like but do your best being the most important quote. And when people are full of it, tell them, Talk is Cheap but Money buys Bread. He couldn’t be honest if you paid him, which may remind you of Trump. The Love of Money really is the Root of All Evil, sadly in today’s world this is more and more the case.
My dad would come home from working Saturday overtime in the Lobby at the steel works, then he’d take his boots off and wash his feet before putting his suit on and going to rattle a tin collecting for Charity at the back of Rackhams. No big Gala and Charity does for him, just front of the coalface work. And yes he knew how to swear as does any steelworker the world over does. And so do I. I am my father’s son after all. As I grow older I realise that I am more like my dad. Or sometimes I sound like own brother, or another or a 3rd. I imagine this is because we are/were a close family.
When he was angry in his later years he’d say to my sister, tell them ARSEHOLE, I’d hit the bastards with my walking stick. He’d defend us to the very last even though he was very frail by then. I’m not as frail as he was then, but I have greater empathy for him because like him I used to be as strong as an ox. Now I’m far weaker, though I am still very quick despite my size, Barry used to say it was like being hit by wood when I hit him when we were play fighting 20 years ago and more. And it still is, and I do still bite, as Laura once observed.
My dad was very mild, but you should never take that for weakness. He would and could give you a round of $$$%%^s if you deserved it. He really was a gentleman, as I try and be. I’m not one of these idiots trying to look HARD, frightening off stray dogs and making children cry. Be nice, but if you do have to be assertive, then push the NUCLEAR button. And if anybody has received a letter of complaint will attest, I take no prisoners. On the reverse of the coin, make time for God’s special people and have a kind word for little old ladies, do not rush by. Take your working boots off, and wash your feet and put your suit on and rattle a tin for charity. This can be a metaphor for just being nice in some shape or form.
I hope all of you remember your own dad with love and affection, I know I will never be as strong or as loving as my dad was for all his brood. This does not mean it was all love and kisses, far from it, and many sadnesses I will never speak of. The thing is though that my dad had the steel of love, or a blacksmith’s love running through his core. He really was a Superman, a man of steel, a man of love, made in Kerry Ireland, where supermen are forged with love, total love.
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