I know, I know...of late my blogging has been atrocious. This week for my local writer's group I had the task of writing a letter to a dead relative/friend. Strange subject I know...and guess who set the task ?? Yes...it was me. I am learning there are few coincidences in life. I know from writing… Continue reading It’s been a while…
I have known this statement to be true for a while. Last night it was proven to me again. In a movie of all things. And perhaps in a movie where you would least expect it. Through my two children I was introduced to the Fast & Furious movie franchise. I never expected to love… Continue reading Family isn’t about blood.
I don't have many memories before I was eight that did not have my Auntie Ed [short for Edna] in them. Auntie Ed was tiny. Seriously tiny. She was also a force of nature. Not someone you fooled around with. Auntie Ed had a way of looking at you that made your bones rattle when… Continue reading Saying goodbye.
I don’t do this. Reblogging I mean. At least NOT my own posts…but you see today is Dad’s 105th birthday.
Three years ago I awoke early on the 13th of April and words poured out of me. Like the molten steel you see running down in to a mould, burning, shining, a completely unstoppable river that once cooled within will form a weapon. That post became my weapon you see. After a lifetime, it sliced effortlessly through the things that guarded my past and held me captive behind a solid door of emotion.
I love my Dad. I loved him growing up. But ours was a tumultuous relationship. Because as deep as my loving was, my understanding of him was shallow. Colin Arthur Bryant was not a sharer. I know that. Yet I was luckier than most in our family. I saw more than the others, but even with that I grew up knowing that I would never be able to say I really knew my Dad.
It has become important to me that my children will never think that of me. Some may say that I over share. I understand their view. I also disagree. Through the circumstances of my life I grew up knowing neither my Dad or my Mum well. I can’t tell you their favourite colour, what smells reminded them of moments they had lived, what their joys were or what their sorrows were. I know nothing of why they once loved each other or why their love became so twisted and full of emotions that drove them to acts I neither know if they regretted or were glad of their doing.
So words have become my path to a future for my children that will enable then to say…this was my Mum. I knew her well !
Again I digress. A habit I am not sure I want to break as it often leads me in to places I had forgotten existed. As I age I feel a growing fondness for finding places that lay hidden in the recesses of my mind and my memories, if only for the lessons that each journey has had, and possibly still has for me.
Time though to revisit Colin. I had thought to write a post today for the celebration of the day he was born. Instead I found myself drawn back three years to this post. I realised that this post had said everything I want to say about the man I called Dad and the years in which he graced my life.
I cried today reading it as much as I did the day I wrote it. Both for the possibilities that were grasped and for the ones abandoned and lost between us over the years. Those tears are good tears…the healing kind.
With all this…I still feel an ache that has never diminished.
So to Colin I say this:
“Happy birthday Dad. I know that you did the best you could with what you had. I am grateful for that. I am grateful for you. I miss you no less with each passing year. I will love you no less on the day I die than I did on the day you passed from my life. I feel you in each step I take forward.
Your loving daughter,
I hope you will have the time to visit fully with my Dad. Get to know him as much…or as little…as I did…in my post from three years ago. That is of course if you haven’t seen it before.
One hundred and two years ago Caroline Ada Bryant had a baby boy on this day. Her second child, also her second son.
She named him Colin Arthur Bryant.
As a young boy Colin had hydatids. Maybe that’s why he was a little iffy around animals. His body bore scars from where they had operated to get the small sacs off, and save his life.
He married twice.
His first wife died after they had a son and a daughter.
His second ran off with a no-hoper from the circus after she had a daughter.
He carried that scar with him for the rest of his life as well.
Once a month until the third child was twelve he came to wherever she lived for his visit. He was always dressed in grey pants with a crease down the legs, a grey jacket, white long sleeved shirt and tie.
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When I went up to Auckland last, we went out in Ponsonby for lunch, as the next day was The Son's 23rd birthday, but he had plans. The Son's brief was for a pub lunch, so guided by The Daughter we wandered around and headed to the Three Lamps and Eatery. It is a beautiful… Continue reading Three Lamps Bar and Eatery
Sonel's challenge this week is family. This family really grabbed my attention.
I sure did !!!! The Daughter is scheduled to perform at the Auckland Fringe Festival. The Wet Hot Beauties are doing SWAN SONG. And they are trying to raise the money needed for the performance. PledgeMe is a crowdsourcing site that you can visit and donate if you think they are worth it. Sadly those… Continue reading Can you spot my baby among these bathing beauties ???
Sometimes reading a simple message on a social website can and does change not only your day, but your being. That happened to me last night when I went on to facebook and read a friend's message of condolence. You see I knew the boy she was talking about. Not well, at least not anymore.… Continue reading Still learning…
HAPPY, HAPPY 21ST TO MY DARLING BOY... Related articles: When a cake is not simply a cake... When a cake is not simply a cake…part 2 When a cake is not simply a cake…part 3
Come the 2nd of February this year this sweet boy is turning 21. As I did for The Daughter...the plan was to make a cake. Something like this one... Classy - maybe not so girly, but still - well - nice. Thanks to The Daughter I am now making The Son a different style of… Continue reading When a cake is not simply a cake…