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.
