The Road is Long

So are you sitting comfortably then I shall begin……

I don’t think I am anyone special, in fact most of my life my father made sure I knew I wasn’t, you know put downs and aggression, these were his tools of love and affection. I guess he was doing what he learned from his parents. Oh my god already I’m sounding like a therapist’s test case, well forgive me but the reality is, before you can go forward you should look back to see where you came from.

I come from mixed parents, or should that be mixed up parents, anyway my father is from Irish stock and my mother from Maltese, I used to think I was exotic, but I really am mixed. As far as I can remember my father’s parents were hard working, salt of the earth kind of people, although his mother we’ll talk about later!

He grew up in the east end of London, Stepney I believe and had brothers and a sister who were all ruled by a rod of iron, wielded by their mother. I only met her a few times and each time was a painful look into the eyes of a woman with so much anger that it’s hard to conceive of her love being anything other than bitter, of what I don’t know, but bitter and angry she was. Her husband my grandfather, was less of an entity, I met him the same amount of times and can’t remember his voice or his manner, other than silent and done in, I suppose living with all the anger she had made you that way.

My mother’s family are more of a mystery to me, I know she had sister’s and maybe a brother but meeting them is a haze, I think I did meet 2 of her sisters, when and for how long is lost to me, like so much of my mother’s life.