and so...
As a kid, I idolised dad. He was hard-working, a crusader, never afraid to stand out of the crowd if he thought he was right. Had a hell of a temper when he got going, but he only lost it if there was a proper reason to.

When I was about 14 or 15, after mum had recovered from an illness that left her bedridden for about three years, during which dad and my eldest sister looked after the family, dad started leaving the house at 6 every night after a blazing row with mum. Regular as clockwork. The illness had stressed him right out, and now couldn't cope with a healthy mum again.

This meant that every night, I was tense as hell until he left, and then could get on with enjoying my night afterwards. Not particularly healthy for a son.

Mum and dad separated soon after. We stayed with mum, and dad worked his arse off to get a house together, and get what he thought would be nice things in his house that would make us want to go over there more. He used to buy computer stuff that he'd never have got for me when I was younger. He got my sisters DVDs of American films that he'd have shouted off the telly. It was obvious that he was trying really hard, but I'd kind of gotten used to not having him around. Plus the fact that he wasn't the same dad I used to have at home made it weird. Teenagers find weird hard to understand.

I didn't go over there much, not out of not wanting to see him, but I was a teenager who'd found alcohol , and had lots of friends that liked it too. I was never free to go see him that much.

Behind all of this, I was the oldest child at home by now, and had to be the referee between my parents when it came to them arguing about who got access to my little sister, and when. Not healthy.

I went off to Uni after a few years. Didn't cope very well with it. Was thinking too much of my little sister. Took me a year and a half to snap out of the worst of the depressions, but they'd left their mark. I'd put on about six stone. And had kind of lost touch with my close family.

Dad was great support from afar when I was at Uni, though. Made me sit down with him and work out how much cash I needed for each term, how much in loans I'd get, and how much beer money (he insisted on including it) I should budget for. He made up the shortfall. Well, at least the budgeted one. The budgeting lesson stayed far longer than the beer money, anyway.

I finished Uni, but stayed in the Uni town. Got a job and bought a house. This was far enough away from my immediate family that I could get my head down, and get on with my own life.

Sadly, I wasn't handling life very well. It's only with hindsight that I can see how depressed I was, and how crushed a personality I'd developed from the bad years. I ran a business for five years, which paid the bills, but gave me ulcers and no friends.

It came to a head when my sisters (still near my parents) started having kids. I didn't want to be a bad uncle. I remembered some I had - and was pretty sure I wanted to be better.

I started travelling down almost each weekend to see one or other of my sisters' families. Or one of my parents, or some combination thereof.

It got so that I started to consider that I should move back near them all. That I did a year or so later. And got a job.

My eldest sister (still looking after us all) put me up for a year while my house sold.

My family rallied round, and popped round to see me every few days or so. They suggested places I should go, things I should do to rebuild a circle of friends.

Slowly, surely, it worked.

Dad by now had retired, but was working even harder, being paid silly money as a consultant for all sorts of things by now.

When he paid off his mortgage, he started funnelling his money to us kids. Never as cash, but only if we had a plan to improve a house, or invest in a car for a proper reason. An example of dad's generosity was actually my first house. He got the 5k deposit for me for a 54k house. I sold it 10 years later for 180k. He gave me 5k, so I could put a 100k+ deposit on the house near him.

I still hadn't reconnected with him personally though, and this is where K come in. K belonged to a group of friends I'd made online. Friends I count in my absolutely best friends. Been there when I was down. Still around when I got up. These friends were all around the world, on 4 continents.

It was during a trip to see A, another of the friends, that K and I got drinking in a town in Belgium. A slow, lovely crawl through the town. On belgian beer. And we got talking about deep stuff.

As we talked, I told K about how much I loved dad, and filled her in on the story above. I told her that I didn't feel able to make the final connection back with dad.

She told me to text him to tell him I loved him. So I did.

Dad rang immediately.

He was crying, and laughing. And then so was I. Him back home, me in the middle of Ghent.

We've not needed to say much after that. But each time I see him, he knows I love him, and I know he loves me.

We never talk a lot, now. We don't need to. We see each other a lot, but we're at a level I'd never have dreamed of being with him only a few years ago.

My family rocks. Dad and mum almost destroyed it, but they're still working to make things just a little better each day. I'm pretty sure we caught up on where we were when I was a kid more than a few years ago. And it's still getting better.

Sorry for the blurb, but this needed getting out.
( Claws of Doom I am no longer infected, Fri 26 Nov 2010, 19:32, 1 reply)

Yo dude
Ulcers now proven to be caused by a type of bacteria that lives in the stomach, not stress. Go see your GP and be rid of them forever with some antibiotics.
(AndyC4m Eject Eject [><], Wed 1 Dec 2010, 14:08, closed)