The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]

Given he died at 60 – and I’m 53 – that means he has been gone for almost half of my life.

And in some ways it feels it.

Memories made up of different moments from the distant past.

But when anniversaries approach … the context changes.

Backgrounds become foregrounds … and despite all the years I’ve had to come to terms with things, they still have the power to take me on an incredibly emotional rollercoaster.

Part of that is because of our history … the other part is because of what I wish I could share and discuss.

He always had questions.

Not for judgement but connection.

OK, mainly for connection – hahaha.

And with so many things having happened in my life since he passed, I can only imagine all the things he’d want to know about.

God I’d love that.

I’d love to watch his eyes as he met my wife, my son …

Saw the life we live, have lived and plan to live.

Feel I’d made him proud.

Because so many of the decisions in my life have been driven by my desire to do just that. To feel my actions and behaviours would be things that made him feel a sense of pride.

Of course I’ve done stuff that would not come anywhere close to gaining that reaction, but in the main I think he would believe I’ve made him proud more times than I’ve disappointed him … but then my Dad, like my Mum, saw their role as encouraging me to always chase fullfilment rather than choose conformity or contentment.

And they did.

Sure, there were some gulps when I told them I didn’t want to go to university …
And when I was going to spend 10 years of savings all in one go on guitar amps …
But once they knew why I was making those decisions, they supported me.
Proper support. Encouragement. Interest. Help.

It was only when I was older that I realised how lucky I was, how this was not ‘normal’ parent behaviour.

So on what would be my Dad’s 85th birthday, I’d like to talk about a story of this encouragement.

I’ve written it before, but – to me – it’s a moment where his [and Mum’s] reaction changed the course of my life in a good way.

I was alright at school.

I was one of the cleverest in the thick bunch and one of the thickest in the clever bunch.

So basically bang in the middle.

But I worked hard. I put in effort. And the teachers knew I really tried.

However when it came to exams, I was a disaster.

Didn’t matter how hard I revised, the moment I was in a situation where I felt ‘everything came down to that moment’… I fell apart. While my parents did all they could to help – including getting me extra lessons – I now realise it was probably driven by anxiety … however in 1986, anxiety didn’t exist so while my school work continued to be good, exams still continued to be a major problem for me.

Nothing highlighted this more than when I was sent to the local careers advisor.

I told them I wanted to be a lawyer or a journalist [more on that in a minute] but the moment they looked at my projected qualifications – despite my solid schoolwork – they said:

“Have you considered a career in catering management”.

Now there is nothing wrong with catering management. I have some friends that work in that industry who love it. But even then I knew absolutely that it wasn’t for me. And at that moment, that careers advisor stamped all over the hopes and dreams I had for the future.

Aged just 16.

Of course I sort-of understand. They said what they saw from the ‘data’ in front of them … however while I appreciate they couldn’t give me any false hope, pointing me in a direction I had no interest in was equally as bad. Despite this all happening 37 years ago, I still remember the lack of interest he showed in understanding me. I was just another kid he was contractually obliged to see. Another kid he had to ‘tick off’ his register.

I left that building in a bit of a daze.

I caught the 45 bus back to Mum and Dad’s.

I remember the day because it was the day Andrew and Fergie got married.

It was sunny. Except in my head and heart.

Frankly I was devastated. I had – in my mind – been told the most I should aspire for was what I imagined at the time, a ‘mediocre’ life.

(I appreciate this would not be necessarily the case, but I was young and at the time, I just had my hopes crushed and so I only saw stuff in black and white)

When I got home, I found Dad in his chair watching the pomp and ceremony.

He loved the history of the Royal Family, but didn’t really love the Royals … so when he saw me, he could tell something was up. I tried to fake it at first. Put on a smile. Not just because I was trying to process what had just happened … but I didn’t want to disappoint him. But my Mum and Dad knew me well and so slowly I let things out.

I remember he listened intently. Taking it all in. And when I got to the point of ‘catering management’ he asked what I thought of that. And I probably cried … because it was absolultely not what I wanted to do.

And despite my family all being incredible lawyers, he asked, “why aren’t you looking at music?”

This was a revelation for a whole host of reasons.

One … the idea of a career in music was so far outside my frame-of-reference that it sounded even more crazy than me saying I wanted to become a lawyer.

Two … while I had been playing the guitar – and done some gigs for a few years – I always assumed my parents saw it as a hobby. Or worse, an educational distraction.

And if that wasn’t amazing enough, then he said something that changed my life.

He told me he loved me.
He told me exam results don’t define the future of me.
He told me a person who only spent 15 minutes with me knows nothing about me.
He told me history was littered with people who achieved more than others said they would.
He told me he wants me to chase what I’m passionate about, not what others want me to be passionate about.
He told me he sees how hard I work and how much I can – and have – achieved because of that hard work.
He told me he and Mum will always do what that can to support me.
He told me he was proud of me.

This is all I needed to hear. Because all I wanted was to be seen. Recognised for my effort and interests not just my school results. Actually that’s wrong, just seen for my exam results.

Of course I knew whatever I did wouldn’t be easy … but I never expected it to be. But here was my Dad – followed by my Mum when she came home from work – telling me he loved me and believed in me, despite what some careers officer thought … and that changed everything.

Within a few years, I got the 3rd highest mark in law across the country.
Within a few years I became a session guitarist for a bunch of 80’s popstars.
Within a few years I was in a band that signed a record deal with Virgin.
Within a few years I started a career in an industry that has helped me experience a life beyond my wildest dreams.

My Dad did that.
My Mum did that.
And in later life … my wife did that.

I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for it … I’m not saying I didn’t have many twists and turns along the way … but they were the reason I was able to go for it.

A belief in me that is probably more than the belief I have in me.

Never blind and blinkered … but also never dismissive or undermining.

What a gift.

What a Dad.

Happy birthday. I love you and miss you so much.

A kiss to you and Mum.