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Living with Luke 45

June 30, 2014

It’s been a while…

With everything else that has been going on with bringing ‘Living with Luke – The Play’ to life, I realised that the very thing that had brought it into existence in the first place had been hibernating. Let me remedy that.

TCMH went out the other day to help celebrate a friends birthday. (I say a friend, but Mr Freeze, as we shall henceforth know him as the temperature always seems to drop when he is in the room, makes Leonard Cohen look like a kids entertainer, but that’s just between us.) Anyhow, Tiddles was asleep when she went and so we didn’t get the usual “come back mummy!” or “You stay there!” or “go away daddy…!”

I thought no more of it, only because I had forgotten about it more than anything else.

A little while later, I could hear from upstairs,

“Where’s my mummy?”

And then later still,

“When does mummy come back?”

As I said, I had almost forgotten this, which was ironic in a way because one of the lines that I have been saying all of last week during the play, which had itself come from an earlier blog was,

“You cry when your mummy goes out but you barely acknowledge my exits. You only sit with me when you want something and never for just a cuddle…”

I suppose because I had been the one going out each night, he had gotten used to/was quite happy about me not being there. It was fine though, sort of…or it was until he came down the stairs holding TCMH’s ID badge with her picture on it, held it up to me and pointed to her face.

“When does mummy come back?” he said. I didn’t think it was a question, but it’s always difficult to tell. I laughed because of the situation but in hindsight, it was a bit sad.

And I wondered if this is my fault somehow and not for the first time.

Doing the play in Colchester last week made me confront the words I myself had written. When I write the blogs, they are all stream of consciousness, my thoughts and feelings written down in one short space of time, with very little editing. So when I had to actually learn the words I had put down, it made me stop and think about them in a whole new light. And it was hard, because I had to re-live those feelings over and over again and I began to question why Tiddles was like this with me? What had I done that had caused him to seemingly hate his dad?

And the answer was, that I had absolutely no idea. It was a mystery then as it is now and I grope around in the dark, searching for his hand to pull me back to the light. But either I keep missing it or maybe, it’s just not there. But I have to keep searching for it, in the hope that possibly I’ll get lucky one day and find it. If I do, I’ll never let it go…

TCMH said to me the other day,

“I’m glad that you’re Tiddles’ dad. I’m glad you’re The Eldest Child’s dad too, obviously, but I am glad that you are Tiddles’ dad…”

I am not glad that I am Tiddles’ dad however. But that isn’t as harsh as it may first seem.

Because despite all the pain and the heartache and the distance between us emotionally, the shouting, the crying, the constant rejection…

I’m glad that he is my son.

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