The Passing of a Single Tear
My Father died yesterday, l don’t know the exact time because no one has told me although l suspect it was between 3.06pm and 3.10pm in the afternoon. I had been talking to my Sister at the time. But we don’t talk, she doesn’t actually talk to many people at all., least not family, least not her Brother. So everything is restricted to Facebook chat.
Since my Father’s illness began back in June, she and l have actually only spoken five times as in actual speaking to each other, otherwise l am forced to communicate via social media.
But yesterday, l was upset and sadly disappointed, never mind fucked off – l will not hide that emotion, l was very angry. That she couldn’t take the time to confirm with her brother that our Father had passed despite just being one message away. Instead she rang my Mother, my Father’s ex wife of thirty years to ‘break the news to me’ because she was busy ringing other family members on my Father’s side.
My own Sister couldn’t actually tell the only true family member she has that their Father had officially died, when l was simply a text away. I find it disrespectful. But l put it down to this ‘rift’ we had shared for 20 years due to my Father [he had created it, although l still have some cynical doubts about it being just him]. In so far as she is not used to speaking to me, or perhaps she was grief stricken. I will let it slide for now.
And yet, it’s just another sleight from my family .. why be surprised Rory?
Over the years my entire family has ostracised me for being different or being in their eyes mentally ill, long before l was officially diagnosed with Asperger’s in 2008, long before that. Never mind that the diagnosis solved so many riddles, proving l wasn’t a nutter.
I was never ‘good enough’ in their eyes. It didn’t matter what achievements or successes l had in my life, it only mattered that l was different – my opinions, beliefs and my thinking was different to my Father. As he was a God, it was his way or the highway. I was awarded the highway.
I have often been accused of not having the right empathy levels, and whilst l will not contest all of that statement, l will say in my defence, that l do care about certain things thank you very much.
Here we are Friday morning, and still l haven’t actually heard from my Sister, l offered my condolances to her last and said be strong, try to keep busy and keep the grief bullet at bay. No one has thought to offer me any condolances for my loss, no one from my family, they haven’t even asked how l am. My Mother was flippant with her delivery of the message and my Sister is ‘too’ busy.
Suzanne did, and a few WP bloggers did – but not a whisper from anyone else.
This is actually the story of my life, not just for now, but since l was six.
My Father was a cold and hard brutal man, who favoured my Sister and her children more, and had very little time for his strange Son, who preferred animals over people, who didn’t have children, nor continue the family name – as that was more important than anything else. Who for many years, had mental health issues, and lived in a caravan with dogs! Dogs!! No ‘normal’ person does that – he would say – case closed – you are NOT normal!
It is hard to love a man like that – very hard. But l was more accepting and more tolerant than most. I had given up trying to please him when l turned 40, and stood up to him, and told him to Stop being a bully! If l had thought he didn’t like me before that, he changed after that, he liked me even less, but tried rather unsuccessfully to hide his disdain.
I did love my Father, just it wasn’t like my Sister maintained she did, nor was it like other Fathers and Sons l have seen over the years, it was just l loved my Father. I tried to accept him for who he was.
I have been thinking about this thought ‘How do l feel’ for months. Strange, l feel strange. But he was my Father, and l loved him for that aspect alone – he was my Father. I lost my Father yesterday, how do l feel?
I feel like this ……
The Passing of a Single Tear
I wish there had been more time shared as Father and Son,
From young, when young, just young,
But that was a big ask from a man,
Who couldn’t and wouldn’t understand,
There was never any free time, to simply share,
Honest pleasures, the joys, for he was always somewhere ..
His mind, was not present, never there, when at home,
Always busy, with other people, or on the phone,
If not that, then his music for him alone,
Never shared freely, appreciation forced,
His family looked upon as if we were accursed,
An entity he had to bear, for eternity,
Time was for everyone else, family carelessly,
Thrown to the wind.
Foundations, never formed,
Dysfunctionality ruled the way,
We were just there to be burned,
By a man, who lived only in his yesterdays.
No matter, life was there to adorn him.
… and him alone!
Life was always about him,
His way or the highway,
We hardly ever saw eye to eye,
My Father passed into the hands of death yesterday,
A shadow of who he once was, a grain of sand,
In the bigger picture of life, is all that remained of the man,
He slipped away, quietly l hear, no pain nor sound,
For such a brutal presence in life, l find the passing profound!
Such is the way,
I cried a single tear,
And wished him well on the highway,
The stairs that lead everywhere,
But not the yesterday.
A single tear, it was all l had,
That’s all l could share,
I tried, oh how l tried,
I tried to cry,
but none would come
I cried a single tear for you,
But that tear was an ocean,
Deep, wild and unruly, angry and upset,
It rolled down my cheek,
I felt it passing,
So much was left unsaid, so many questions,
Will now never be heard,
Why am l surprised at that? It’s absurd!
I felt that tear well up within my mind,
But it was just one,
A solitary tear from your Son.
One single tear,
Down my face,
It left an emotional smear,
My grief, that tear, the only trace.
Before, it was gone, crashing to the ground …
Just a single tear for my Father, how profound.
© Rory Matier 2018
But also …… l feel free.