Life was hard when I was young, dad had just moved from Ireland, chasing gold. He said he moved to get away from the war, but he never talked about the war. I suspected that the war had been his cancer. He was as tall as the trees and had arms of rock. Your grandfather met your grandmother in one of the local taverns. He was sitting down with the local diggers, quarrelling and conversing about their gold digging stories. She had just moved down to New South Wales for extra work. It was grandmothers first day working there. In grandmother’s words, she said he had a certain confidence about him. Like he had the world at his feet, but when it came to your grandmother she could just melt his heart, and I think that’s what your grandfather liked about her.
As the years went on I notice subtle problems in my parent’s relationship, maybe they were always there but they seemed to be more noticeable as I grew older. I don’t know why it mattered to me so much? But watching my friend’s families it became clear to me that I want what they took for granted and what I had longed for, compassion. I suspected that I was not the only one who longed for his love. Now that I was obsessing about this grudge like a nagging itch, I would blow small things out of proportion. These small things would be the death of us. When I concentrated on the small things they would build up into this ball of resentment and anger!
Our relationship took an even bigger turn for the worst. After all the years of his rock hard skin attitude, and how when mum divorced him, and it was just another day. It all came down to one day that would tip our relationship over the edge of no return. It was your fifth birthday and every one turned up for your party including your grandfather. It was a day to behold, for whatever reason the sun seemed to be smiling on us on this day. You were so happy; you had this uplifting smile and this certain courage that nothing was going to bring you down. That day when it came to you cutting the cake, you put your childish face up to be kissed but after the absence of his lips touching your check, he pushed you back and whispered into your ear.
“Your five now time to grow up. A man can’t show weakness.” That day I felt like I had failed you in being a father, a father’s duty is to protect his son from harm and when your grandfather’s coldness broke you, and because of what. All you wanted was some compassion on your fifth birthday; it brought back that ball of hatred that I had felt towards him for so many years! That night would be the last time I would see your grandfather.
Twenty years had passed without even a letter shared between me and your grandfather, until April the 17th 1973 when your grandmother turned up on my doorstep bearing the news of the reaper. This day changed who I was and made me who I am today. Your grandfather’s funeral was something of a Life Lesson. Your grandmother was justifying his actions, but it did not matter because who am I to judge? Judgment is simply trying to reject a part of what we are. They were good people, they cared and loved all of us and once they stood tall in my life. So how can I judge without ingratitude?
I now lay before you, my family, I ask and hope that you learn from my mistakes and I ask for forgiveness because for whatever injustice you see in me it is not worth a life time of hatred and anger; it is but fruitfulness compared to life because now I see the truth as I draw near judgment day.
© Copyright 2012 Zhane (UN: zhane at Writing.Com).
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