I tried to keep contact for so many years. I made the trip from Ealing when I was only 15, so I could see you. I came back to live with you. Twice.
The second time I was in your way, and you made it known, that you didn’t want me there. I still kept in touch with you.
You only ever came to visit me on a couple of occasions, even though you lived but ten minutes walk from my home, and that was when Pat made you, and that of course, was back in the 1980’s.
Life moves on, and I grew tired of always being the one to try and keep contact.
Since I moved, I did try to call you at home on about 5 or 6 occasions, but you never answered the phone, and as you didn’t have an answering machine, I couldn’t leave a message.
I wish I had tried a little harder; remembered on more occasions to send you a card, even though you never sent me any, ever.
It pains me to say that you weren’t a person that could command respect, and you weren’t really a great source of inspiration to me. You had many issues, some of which you probably never even considered to be issues.
I know your own upbringing wasn’t one that was filled with love, even though your own parents were wonderful people.
I wish I had been able to get to know you better, as a person, and as my Dad, but there was always that defensive wall around that manifested itself to often make you seem such a negative and bitter person. However, you were my Dad, and I did love you for all your faults and funny ways, and I will miss you. May God watch over you.
I won’t be able to attend your funeral, but I will send some flowers.