A New Springtime
Writing goes through peaks and troughs; and it has to wait its turn amid the tasks of family life, and the unexpected – and predictable – shocks that flesh is heir to.
My dad comes in for a bit of stick in my memoir. And yet, where he might have cause to be upset and to take me to task, he has responded with grace and kindness to everything I have written. He took issue with one outline of a situation, which was useful since he prompted me to re-think and re-write much more realistically. For the rest, I was writing what I remembered, and tried to do that as honestly as I could. Honesty, of course, if it is genuine, is a two edged sword, as cutting against the writer as against any of the other protagonists. That is my hope, that my honesty salvages what could be a maudlin reflection of what I should have done better, into something more worthwhile. And, these days, I like to take my gazillion mistakes and turn them into useful fodder for reflection and, of course, writing.
Dad had given me so many gifts: a quirky sense of humour, an appreciation of classical music, a delight in bright colours, big skies, foreign places and hot climes, an awareness of different cultural approaches, a delight in travel and an awareness of my good fortune. All of these gifts have underpinned my days with the recognition of how beautiful life is, and can be, if we allow it to be.
I am travelling to Belgium next weekend, when I hope to see dad and tell him some of this. Even if I don’t have that opportunity, I hope he knows how much I love him.
Please share:
March 17, 2016 @ 4:07 pm
I read and loved your book as you already know Fran but through it all I never sensed anything really but love for your family. Yes, you raged against the medical thinking at the time when it was relevant to you and your situation and yes you raged against the struggles you faced, The raging is I believe what made you strong but I am sure your family are fully aware of how much you love them. I hope you have a lovely visit with your dad.
March 17, 2016 @ 4:22 pm
Thank you Diane, for your thoughtful comment and for your good wishes. You reassure me that the writing was worthwhile. Noticing how painful that process has been through the years, I sometimes have cause to doubt its usefulness. So thank you. Lots of love.
March 21, 2016 @ 6:02 pm
Hi Fran,
I can only imagine that your family would be well pleased and proud of what you have written and I wish I could have had the same creative educational relationship with my own father as you did with yours. What my father did give me was an Irish sense of humour, boxing lessons and the ability to deal with bullies in the school playground who didn’t all fight using the Queensberry Rules.
Tam.
March 21, 2016 @ 9:33 pm
Hi Tam
Thank you, both for visiting, and for your lovely comment. A sense of humour, whatever its origins, is indeed of of the most precious gifts we can enjoy. How much easier life would be, wouldn’t it, if everyone fought by the same rule book. 😀