Funny man

She said, ‘I don’t have to be afraid anymore’.

They thought that only at the end of life, did he suffer for the pain he caused. That was not true.

He suffered life-long anguish and perhaps his grief was the real reason for the bellicose outbursts, which reflected his inability to take responsibility for the wrongs he had done, the wrongs he repeated time after time.
‘What wrongs?’ friends would ask. For them he was the funny man, always ready with a quip and a hail-fellow-well-met greeting.
To the people who knew, he was the person to fear. The slightest indiscreet thought could tip him into a screaming beast capable of much harm, for he knew people’s thoughts, he could read their faces and detect the sly smirk of disagreement or judgement, the silent challenge to his power game, where he hoped to reign as the alpha male.
But teenage boys challenge fathers and the rage our thoughts caused were mild compared to the fractures opened by direct opposition to his will – the plate-throwing, the broken panes. We learned to dodge and leave gashes in the woodwork, not in our heads and we became skilled glaziers, so that harmony could return when he did.
Sometimes there was no resolution so after the initial rage, came the days, even weeks of the silent treatment. He knew he was stronger. He knew that the family would cave in, just to return to a normalised life.

I remember once, age 14, I cut his tomato the wrong way – 5 days silence as punishment. His word had to be absolute.

He worked hard for his family, supported them when it mattered, never betrayed my mother, doubtless loved us all – so why was Christmas a nightmare.

I never asked why?
As the spark of life grew dim in his eyes, he asked me if I was alright with the hand, he had dealt me, all those years ago, as a child and young man.
Why didn’t I tell him the truth?
Because he already knew the truth and wanted absolution from me, to hear that it all hadn’t mattered, and the hours of sobbing after the storm, had been forgiven. Forgiven, yes! But forgotten – never can happen old man.
Thus, I remained silent and ignored his request, which was perhaps the greatest punishment for him.
And somewhere in all this was the reason why, at the end of life’s final whispering, as he exhaled for the last time after 66 years of marriage, my mother said, ‘I don’t have to be afraid anymore.