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Living with Luke 50

September 27, 2014

Dear Tiddles…

When I started writing these, it was to document the ever growing distance between us. It was also a way of telling you things that you would never know, never care about, or even ever give a thought to. They were my feelings and thoughts about us, me and you. Father and son. Dad and boy. A love letter that spanned 50 blogs, thousands of words and 18 months. Has it made a difference to us?

No.

Not in the slightest. It could be that its because you will never read these, know the feelings I have for you, or my frustrations not on a daily basis by a minute by minute basis. From the first time I see you awake in the morning, to when I eventually go to bed, my anger at what fate or life or the universe, God or whoever the hell is calling the shots has dealt me is suffocated by my dealing with the fact that one of my beloved sons really doesn’t like me or even want me around. So much so that he would rather punch me and face the consequences of his actions than try and accept me for who I am…which is your dad. And it hurts Tiddles, it really does, physically and mentally.

The other day, you were so upset about something or maybe you were in pain, that you were screaming. And you were manic, frantic almost. You ran the length of the living and slapped the conservatory windows so hard, we thought you were going to break them. You then ran back, screaming and launched yourself at me, ramming your knee into my stomach/hip. That was one of the worst pains I’ve ever felt from you, but I held onto you and let you scream and cry safely, without the risk of hurting yourself.

That’s just what I do for you. I try to protect you, as I try to protect everybody I love. Most people know this, but you…well you couldn’t care less.

But that’s not a problem. There are some things between us that will just never be, but I wonder – and not for the first time – what would happen if you could talk to me, even just once? Would you know?

“Dad?”

“Yes, Luke?”

“Why do you always seem so sad?”

“Sad? Do I? Well…I don’t know really. It’s probably because I was tasked to do a particular job and I haven’t been able to do it properly.”

“What was that?”

“Look after you, be your dad.”

“Oh, right…”

“Luke?”

“Yea?”

“Is there something about me that you don’t like?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Cos I don’t know the answer…the best I can come up with is that when I see you there is something about you that seems to, I don’t know, anger me. I don’t seem to like you talking to me. Why do you keep talking to me?”

“Because you’re my son and I love you. What am I supposed to do, just ignore you? I’d hate that!”

“Have you ever considered that I might love that?”

“No. Would you?”

“I can’t answer that. Have you tried it?”

“Yes…”

“And..?”

“I hated it…but you didn’t seem to mind…”

“There you go…”

“But we don’t have a lot going on between us anymore! If I just stopped talking to you, what would we have left?”

“What do we have now?”

“Listen, I’m just trying to be your dad. I hate the fact that you can’t bear to be in the same room as me sometimes, but I deal with it. I deal with you hitting me…why do you do that, by the way?”

“I can’t answer that. I just do.”

“You don’t seem to know much about this do you?”

“This is your imaginary conversation, not mine…”

“Ok. Well, I’m not going to stop loving you. Ever. I’m going to take care of you for as long as possible, whether you like it or not.”

“I know…gotta go now.”

“Go where?”

“Back to Narnia.”

“Do you have to? Please stay a bit longer?”

“I don’t want to. But I’ll come back again.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know. Bye Dad.”

“See you soon, Luke. I love you.”

“Yea…”

See you soon, Tiddles.

Love Dad

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