They slaughtered a piglet this time last year, hung and smoked and now carved for today. For today is father’s day and if there was none of that when I was a boy then now there is, and that’s perfectly fine since now and cooking are fresh muffin and bacon. Catnip and Bosswell are making cards – I am guessing, though my eldest I saw not long ago heading to the shed with her best hamstringing shears. I cannot speak so very much for my own father, he passed away and because he smoked and I’m glad he retired before fifty as he died at sixty-five. Another time, a bigger subject. Though pictured above.
But to be a father, is as precious as it is hard. And no matter how hard it might be – and the more so if one sprout, more or all are challenging tykes – there is this to know. My daughters fill a hole in my soul I did not know I had. Love is that which is reflected back in the eyes of your children, and it is pure and beautiful and when you’re having to watch Kung Fu Panda because the weather is bad (and the reception for the cricket bad because of it), well...
...it means you can sit through bloody Kung Fu Panda. Because there’s a child either side of you on the sofa cuddling close, and one will fall asleep and have to be carried upstairs. And yes then doubtless as many might say ‘wait until they’re teenagers’ then I will do that, wait. For now they are little and wonderful, and as children also mean, and cruel, and funny, and selfish and they suck at and feed on our lives. But they burn so brightly and so well, and so... well!
So if you’ve sent a card, or are visiting or are just thinking of your dad who’s gone now then if you’ve not got children yourself know this: it is we who are honoured, we who are completed by you. And we don’t care what you’ve done, we will always love you.
Even when as now Bosswell has caught next door’s cat in an onion sack, and Catnip is with much laughter sending sparks from the shed with the tinkers wheel. Be grateful you got a card.
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