Memories haunt, especially the spectacular ones. Those, once placed in music….can become a trap. But memories of my father are silent.
When deeply upset, I say-spit things out when I write. I hurt myself…and perhaps that’s the point. Stab and slash away. Scar upon scar upon scar. As though his dying is my fault. I was the best daughter I knew how to be. Considering everything that happened between us, that’s a bladdy miracle. This is what I would say to him…
Dear Daddy, you old black bastard…
Honestly, I didn’t think I would miss you this much. Or wake up crying as often. When something breaks I think of the makeshift plan you would concoct to fix it. There was nothing you couldnt fix or do. I think I would like the person I love to have your best qualities. You were smart, articulate and very practical. Yeah, yeah….everyone knows being practical is not my strong point. My sister owns that bit. Mummy is Mummy….but you know her….she has Jesus on her side. And way too many bibles!
Everytime I make her tea and a sandwich after 7pm, she remembered how you smiled that last night, how much you enjoyed it when I rocked up with something to eat for both of you after supper. There is much I am grateful for….that we had so much time and forgave each other. That we spent those three months together everyday. Eating. Laughing. Every day full. Three generations at one table.
What did you teach me about love, you ask? Sweet fokol old man. You were a terrible husband 90% of the time and a bad father 70% of my life. But in the last few years you made Mummy so happy. And that is what she remembers. It’s the last few years we all remember.
I am writing bullshit music currently. Breadcrumb stuff to other people’s productions. Music to get by. Fun yes. An exercise in songwriting sure. I can see the album I want to release in my mind’s eye. So much of the music was written for you anyway. Okay, not only you. Listen here Old Black Man…I love you but not that much! Let’s keep it real. Damn.
I hope you were waiting for your brother when he died. We miss out on so much during our lives because we think we have time Daddy. Morris wanted me to visit him so badly, but circumstances just didnt allow. But I had enough time with you. That I do know.
I miss you…you old grumpy Black bastard. More than I thought I would. Mummy is my everything…but you know this already. And we love her. The truth is she is the only person that keeps me sane, that reminds me things will work out . There is no music for that Daddy. None. So, I cook for her when she asks. Eventhough, I cant tell if she is a vegan or vegetarian, as she changes her mind all the time!
You better be at peace, old man. After all, you are dead. Yes. I miss you, so much….but especially when it rains. As no one makes soup the way you do. X