Finding Dad

Sometimes, it's hard to write about something that so much has already been written about. One of those things is D-DAY, so you have to kind of find a way in.

Like so many things, an anniversary comes up- we remember, celebrate etc and then life carries on, it has to- that's how life works.

I remember the 60th D-DAY remembrance, I spent it at my mum's bungalow, now she's gone.

Using my writing comes easily, but this is more of a struggle. I've become quite involved emotionally in all the D-DAY stuff, but then I did twenty years ago.

I never really knew my Dad, well I did for seventeen years until he died in 1986.

He was a quiet unassuming man, born in the country in 1925, he liked his garden, his shooting and to watch me play football. I remember going to watch him play cricket when I was really young, looking back now after having my own therapy and doing various courses - I would say that there was a detachment of some kind, but then there would have to be I think.

But then there was the war; the other side, that I didn't know. It's been so long since he died, that I'm ashamed to admit I don't think about him as much as I should, but watching the reason television coverage has brought it all up to the surface again.

I know that he was in the oxon and bucks, and on D-Day, he went in via the gliders and was around Pegasus bridge, my mum told me that he was injured at Caen. He'd joined up aged 19.

I had several items that were from the war; one was a card of all those signed by those in his company, but I sent that and several other bits of to an airborne museum, part of me wishes that I had kept them - but another thinks it should be shared.

I think he told me some stories when I was young, but they've all been lost in my memory and now that I'm older, I realise that he would have spared me the real horrors. It makes me sad, that I never got to know him when I was an adult. To go down the pub with him.

He never got his medals until he was dying, I think that was his own choice, he'd never wanted them before.

I don't know what he would of thought of the way that I turned out ?

The world has changed in lots of ways, I don't think someone like me would have found it easy in society in them days.

Even though my Dad, wasn't my birth Dad, I've always thought that I shared some of his traits, one being the need to avoid confrontation, that used to bother me a bit when I was younger, but now I realise that after what he had been through, nothing else really mattered. He had seen humanity at its worst.

Like all the other veterans, he just came back and got on with life, how is that even possible ?

All of them young lives lost, and still the world doesn't learn. These past few days I've felt very, very proud and I've shed a few tears, not just for him but all of them. Thank you.

I may not be confrontational, but I have an inner power, an inner belief that drives me- to open doors and to make the world a better place before I leave. My fight might be different, but it's still one of freedom.

Finding Dad 

I wanted to write a song 

about my Dad 

he's been gone so long 

but the feelings come flooding back

Chorus

I wonder what it was like ?

underneath the starts, at night 

not knowing 

what tomorrow would bring

I remember that he, was nice 

but I don't have a voice

to match up to his picture 

It just looks back at me, a constant 

Chorus

I wonder what it was like ?

underneath the starts, at night 

not knowing 

what tomorrow would bring

there's a void, that I can't replace

I wish I'd asked, when I'd had the chance

He never got his medals

until just before he died

they brought them to his bedside

now I'm filled with almighty pride

there's a void, that I can't replace

I wish I'd asked, when I'd had the chance

his missing presence, is stronger 

than I've ever felt, so many wrong paths

a deathly silence

I just can't reach

Chorus

I wonder what it was like ?

underneath the starts, at night 

not knowing 

what tomorrow would bring