In memory of my Father on my 58th birthday

I wrote this in December on the anniversary of my father s death. It is now my 58th birthday and I republish it now to celebrate his life and the legacy he gave me.it was a  wealth of culture and appreciation of the importance of the  models of belief.

Dad,
you have been gone 32 years now. I can still see how red the sky was as I walked back across Singleton park that day in early December 1983. I was 25 then abd I am 57 now. You have a grandson and there are so many things I wish I could share with you and talk to you about.

You gave me so many things, a love of reading and knowledge, a non-tolerance of racism , respect for different cultures, a rebellious nature and a certain eccentricity that we both share.

I have learnt so much in those thirty-two years, you would have loved to hear about the cultures I studied in Social Anthropology, the Philosophers I have read. My Ecosocialism and my rejection of the Neo-liberals and the flat emptiness if the politicians of the conventional political establishment.

There have been dark days..very dark over those years, and days of ecstasy and joy. I would love to have shared those times with you and reflected upon them with you.

I have many books now , dad. Some of them were yours. I thank you for the things you gave me, for the love of words, for the love t of Mythology, Legends and Folk tales. I thank you for that near Death Experience you shared with me when you met the Old Gods and Goddesses of Greece. I hope when my time comes to enter the Summer lands that they are there for me too.

I remember smelling your Senior Service cigarettes the day Morgan was born. I remember watching “Brief Encounter” with you and I remember your tears. You are a romantic like me and you gave me the faith to hold out for love.

I remember your funeral. It was a dark wet day in late December. Suddenly, as your coffin was lowered, the sun burst through and a breeze shot around the church yard. The old Gods came for you , your other world was not the Christian one of the Angels and the clouds, it was a richer passionate one with no room for St Augustine and the company of Saints...but I miss you and love you particularly today

Martyn