Meet the Author's Author

Meet the Author's Author
Live for Jesus! That's what matters! That you see the light in me and come along! :)

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Memory

That time we were all out going around that castle, and we both were trying to photograph each other sneakily, shoving the cameras into each other's faces, laughing.

Driving along the road; when it was just us two, you used to let me wind down the window (cause I'd sit in the front of the car) and lean out of the window. I loved that, the breeze and the force taking my breath away.

We used to listen to our favourite music that no one else liked - military bands and choral/orchestral pieces. We sang - Here Is Love, We'll Keep a Welcome in the Hillside. You taught me the Welsh National Anthem.

You'd surprise me, with sausage rolls, creme eggs, my favourite chocolate bars.

One of my favourite things to do with you was for us to come home and we'd have fish and chips and watch a film. When Mommy wasn't there it was a Western.

We shared the same sense of humour. Laurel and Hardy, Monty Python. No one shares that with me now.

You used to come outside quietly, just to listen to me singing. You took me for accordion lessons.

We'd do the gardening together - when you found the time...why couldn't you find it?...and the inclination. I'd rake it and so would Jose.

Oh, what fun Joseph and I had in the garden with the snails and Daddy, don't you remember that time that we sneaked out on you - Mommy and Jose out the back door and me from the upstairs window - and squirted you with water pistols?

All the drives to the various places. Avoncroft Museum. Duxford. Andover. Dover. Shortwood Farm. Jodrell Bank. Cumbria. The Scottish Borders. Wales. Cymru...my land.

I missed the Daddy then but I was happy with the Daddy I had. First I adored you, then I was confused about you, then I despised you, then I pitied you. It was only when your lust conflicted with my stubborn will because I wouldn't go to bed on time so you could go online, that our battles raged.

And over the fact that you tried to make me do all the housework you didn't want to do.

Mom has sacrificed loads for me - more than I can count. I adore her. But I'm not grieving for her.
I'm not allowed to grieve for you. I'm supposed to be angry with you.
But you're three Daddies in one.

The Daddy who disliked the messy toys. The Daddy who seemed to like punishing us. The intolerant Daddy.
The Daddy who did all those things I mentioned. The kind Daddy. The Daddy that liked little surprises. The Daddy who - could have been.
The dark Daddy. The side I can't bring and don't want to bring and hopefully will never bring myself to reconcile with.

Mamma (she's got past the childish Mummy or Mommy now, she doesn't like it, so I'm finding different ways to change it) hates hearing your name, and I can't stand all the constant horribleness of it so she only talks when something new's happened or when she's going to explode. And I don't talk about you at all.

I'm trying to shut you out, Daddy, but that means I'm losing all the good times into a mist too. I've lost so many...just trying to remember the last few.

I guess, I always will love you. Just...wish you'd change. And come back. And be the good Daddy and lose the other two. I know God can do it. But He can't unless you want to.

Your daughter,
Sian Garner-Jones