I never seem able to celebrate Father’s Day in the same way as so many other people do each year. This is not because I never loved my father, it’s more because I didn’t like him or understand him for many years of our relationship. I have grown to love him more now that he is dead but that still does not give me permission to forget the negative things that lined our relationship. Before you get all up in arms about that statement let me tell you that I have forgiven him but I’ve not forgotten – there is a difference.
My dad was amazing. I know that even more now.
I have recently discovered his first post office savings bank account that he opened when he arrived in Britain. This small slim volume details more than how much and how regularly he saved his wages. It also tells a story of love and determination. My dad came from a humble country background in Jamaica where all he owned was a couple of goats and a donkey (as he would repeatedly tell us), but he was determined to make a difference for his family. He did.
My father never became a property tycoon, however he did buy his final house outright for cash twenty five years before he died. He came a long way in physical, social and economic terms from the time he swapped the beautiful, sunny island of Jamaica for the leafy, cool countryside of England.
I didn’t really understand him that much as I was growing up but through records of his past, that I’m finding now, and pieces of memory that I have stored – but never made any sense at the time – I am piecing together a more complete picture of a truly amazing man: my father – Michael Morgan.
I grieve, with love, for my loss and previous misunderstanding of him.