Post by Shinobi-Iri (nick) on Aug 23, 2008 0:40:08 GMT -5
Filling the Void, by Nick Holbrook
It had been a while since our dad shot through; to be honest I don’t even remember it. My mother told me he’d been a good man, but he’d been under a lot of stress from work. I didn’t really believe that though; if he was a good man he would have stuck through it and been there for us until the end. I suppose that’s a little naïve of me to think, and I suppose now that I’m eighteen I don’t think that anymore. But ever since my childhood, all I’ve been able to think of my dad as is a coward; not worthy at all to be a provider and certainly not worthy enough to be a father.
My brother was the most adversely affected. He’s not even twelve, but he still holds the hope that one day dad will be back. I don’t tell him otherwise; a twelve-year-old has to dream, but I know in my heart he won’t be back. It’s been too long, what has he got to come back for? Two sons that don’t know what he looks like? Don’t know how he acts, feels or thinks? It’s not truly worth it to come back, not really.
Sometimes I’ll hear our mum cry, and that really gets to me. I’ve never seen my mum cry before, but only within the last two weeks has she started. She tells me everything is ok, but I know it isn’t. She found dad’s journals the other day, and even though they make her upset she still reads them. She says she doesn’t even know why dad left, so she reads the journals to find out why. I’ve never been near them; mum doesn’t let me, but once I got into a screaming match with her over them.
“I’m an adult; I deserve to know the truth!” I had yelled at mum.
“Why won’t you just let me figure all this out by myself?” she pleaded, half-crying half yelling back at me.
I suppose he was her husband, she deserved to know more than me. But I was his son, so why shouldn’t I deserve to know? Some days I wish he’d just walk through the door and hug me, and tell me exactly why he left. I knew that wasn’t possible, things just didn’t happen that way.
When you don’t have a father, sometimes apathy just overcomes you. I didn’t do well in school when I was there, purely because I just didn’t care. They tried to make me, of course; I got so many letters and phone calls home to mum it wasn’t funny. But she just said the same thing to them whenever she rung them back.
“He’s going through a difficult time, just let him go and he’ll improve in his own time.”
I really respected mum for saying that, and not giving me a hard time about it. I don’t know how many difficult times I could possibly go through, but the school didn’t ever follow it up. I thought it was strange the way they kept calling and writing whenever I skipped, or refused to do homework or played up in class. They got the same answer every time, yet they still kept going…some people don’t give up.
The school counselor wasn’t much help, I’d been sent to see him so many times. He spoke in a drawl with a French accent and had toothbrush eyebrows which I couldn’t help but stare at sometimes.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on at home?” he had asked softly, in a tone that suggested he thought I was some sort of loose cannon. I could have played that card, but I didn’t want to…this guy had enough adolescent bullshit to deal with.
“Nothing,” I had replied truthfully. “My house just isn’t the happiest home at the moment, that’s all.”
When there is somebody missing from your house, sometimes things get almost normal. But you can’t possibly hope to fill the void they’ve left, not a chance in hell of that happening, unless that person comes back. But I’d already accepted that wasn’t happening, and even though there was the occasional screaming match, crying session or questioning by my brother, things were pretty much ok at home. So I wasn’t lying to the counselor, but I wished I could tell him things were better.
I was down at the park one day walking the dog after I finished at the job I had replaced school with since I dropped out. Our dog was a border collie, a lively one at that, and I just spent the whole time throwing sticks to him and watching him bolt after them. The past few times I’d seen one particular bloke down there, walking his own dog, and he was there again on this particular day, but he didn’t have his dog with him. He was just walking around, sometimes leaning against this one tree at the edge of the park, but eventually he walked up to me.
“Energetic little thing, isn’t he?” he asked, indicating my dog, who had abandoned the stick and was now clawing at a tree trying to get to a bird.
“Yeah,” I replied casually. “My mum got him down at the animal shelter…he’d been in a fight with a bigger dog.”
The man nodded thoughtfully.
“Tragic when that happens, sometimes…” he said. “Some dogs are never the same again after a bigger dog attacks them, it’s true for my dog.”
“I’ve seen you’re dog down here,” I said. “He’s pretty cute…”
The man laughed.
“Thank you,” he replied.
There was a pause, in which the man drew in a deep breath before speaking again.
“Listen; there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you…” he said. “I mean, I’ve seen you down here a few times with your mother and brother but I’ve been reluctant to ask.”
I gave him a suspicious glance, he seemed uneasy and out of it…but I didn’t think he meant any harm.
“Ask away…” I said, looking at my dog.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked seriously.
I glanced up at him, into his face and eyes. He was dressed casually, in running pants and a Beatles t-shirt, and had light brown hair and blue eyes, vivid blue eyes like mine. But I’d only seen him at the dog park, never anywhere else, so I had to answer negatively.
“No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “Should I know?”
“Well, I’m your dad…” he said.
Those words didn’t shake me at first, because I thought he was having me on. But if he was, then how would he know? I decided at first that I would dismiss his claim…
“Bullshit…” I muttered, before moving forward to grab my dog, but he laid a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m not kidding you, Adrian…” he said. “It’s me…”
He knew my name…so I turned around and stared at him. His expression was inscrutable, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking. I shrugged his hand off and looked at the ground.
“Why now…?” I wanted to know.
“What…?” the man asked.
“Why have you come here now to tell me this?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Do you realize how much time has passed, how much of my life you’ve missed out on and you decide to come back now?”
“Adrian, I…” he started to mutter, ashamed.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I barked, pushing him once hard in the chest so that he stepped back in surprise. “You’ve been away for all this time and you think everything is going to be ok? Are you completely retarded or what?”
“Adrian, I’m your father…” my dad said, taken aback. “Why are you reacting like this?”
I couldn’t believe he actually asked that, mostly because I could completely justify my reaction. He had walked out before I could even talk and now he had decided to come back? I didn’t even want to know why he’d decided to come back after all this time.
“Dad…” I said quietly. “I don’t think you quite understand how hard this is for me…just let me go home and think this over and I’ll be back tomorrow.”
My dad stepped back and nodded.
“Of course…” he replied. “Take all the time you need Adrian, I’ll be right here.”
I beckoned my dog to my side and headed off home, practically running. At that moment, I just wanted to be as far away from my dad as possible…
That night, I found it impossible to sleep, I tossed and turned and lay still, visions of my father’s face crossing my vision. I got up, went downstairs for a drink of water and sat at the dining room table for awhile, and I must have fallen asleep there because mum woke me the next morning for work. I didn’t tell her about dad, but I was fully intending on meeting him there after work.
I went back, and found the park empty except for an old man walking his dog along the outskirts. I stood under this big tree, watching my dog but watching out for my dad above all, it hit six eventually and he still hadn’t shown up. I sighed and went back home, maybe he was as shaken up by this as I was.
After three nights of him not showing up, I was getting fed up. I went down to the park with my dog anyway though, hoping to god that he would be there. Again, I waited and waited under this tree, the same tree I’d seen him leaning against so many nights ago, but still he didn’t come. I turned around to face the tree, maybe bang my head against it and swear…but I noticed a piece of folded paper tucked in some branches. I plucked it out and unfolded it; it was a letter in a hand I did not recognize, but as soon as I started to read it I knew who it was from.
Dear Adrian,
I know I must have given you quite a shock the other day when I approached you in the park, I can’t imagine how distressed, confused and angry you must be feeling. You have to understand it was a hard decision for me to make, but perhaps it was the wrong one.
I believe I have chosen the wrong time to reveal myself to you, Adrian. I was overcome by my love for you and my desire to see my son that I overreacted and rushed it. But I have come to discover that I should come to you when I am a better person, and I promise you and I will be father and son once more.
The reason for my absence from your life for all these years is a very serious one, and it is a problem I hope I can resolve all on my own. But I need time to do it, and I don’t want you to see what I have become, I want you to see the man I used to be; ready and deserving to be a father. You deserve better Adrian, and I will give you better.
I apologize for doing this to you, I shall see you soon.
Regards,
Your father; Christopher H. Ellis
I looked up from the letter, trying to fight back the tears that were itching to come out. When my father had first revealed himself to me, I was so disgusted by his actions that I wanted him to go away. But as I stood there in the middle of that park, I realized that I wanted nothing more in the world than to see my father again. After a while, I folded the letter up carefully and put it in my pocket, before heading home, my dog trailing after me.
It’s a couple of months on now, and I haven’t told mum about her husband. I still read the letter occasionally though, wondering what he’d done and when he was going to come home. I still go down to the dog park, hoping to see him there but I never do. I feel a bit different though, now that I’m not quite so in the dark about my father. I mean I’ve seen him at least, and that’s enough for me.
I don’t feel quite so lonely, and even though that space in my heart will never be filled until my dad returns; I don’t honestly feel that the void is that deep anymore.
It had been a while since our dad shot through; to be honest I don’t even remember it. My mother told me he’d been a good man, but he’d been under a lot of stress from work. I didn’t really believe that though; if he was a good man he would have stuck through it and been there for us until the end. I suppose that’s a little naïve of me to think, and I suppose now that I’m eighteen I don’t think that anymore. But ever since my childhood, all I’ve been able to think of my dad as is a coward; not worthy at all to be a provider and certainly not worthy enough to be a father.
My brother was the most adversely affected. He’s not even twelve, but he still holds the hope that one day dad will be back. I don’t tell him otherwise; a twelve-year-old has to dream, but I know in my heart he won’t be back. It’s been too long, what has he got to come back for? Two sons that don’t know what he looks like? Don’t know how he acts, feels or thinks? It’s not truly worth it to come back, not really.
Sometimes I’ll hear our mum cry, and that really gets to me. I’ve never seen my mum cry before, but only within the last two weeks has she started. She tells me everything is ok, but I know it isn’t. She found dad’s journals the other day, and even though they make her upset she still reads them. She says she doesn’t even know why dad left, so she reads the journals to find out why. I’ve never been near them; mum doesn’t let me, but once I got into a screaming match with her over them.
“I’m an adult; I deserve to know the truth!” I had yelled at mum.
“Why won’t you just let me figure all this out by myself?” she pleaded, half-crying half yelling back at me.
I suppose he was her husband, she deserved to know more than me. But I was his son, so why shouldn’t I deserve to know? Some days I wish he’d just walk through the door and hug me, and tell me exactly why he left. I knew that wasn’t possible, things just didn’t happen that way.
When you don’t have a father, sometimes apathy just overcomes you. I didn’t do well in school when I was there, purely because I just didn’t care. They tried to make me, of course; I got so many letters and phone calls home to mum it wasn’t funny. But she just said the same thing to them whenever she rung them back.
“He’s going through a difficult time, just let him go and he’ll improve in his own time.”
I really respected mum for saying that, and not giving me a hard time about it. I don’t know how many difficult times I could possibly go through, but the school didn’t ever follow it up. I thought it was strange the way they kept calling and writing whenever I skipped, or refused to do homework or played up in class. They got the same answer every time, yet they still kept going…some people don’t give up.
The school counselor wasn’t much help, I’d been sent to see him so many times. He spoke in a drawl with a French accent and had toothbrush eyebrows which I couldn’t help but stare at sometimes.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on at home?” he had asked softly, in a tone that suggested he thought I was some sort of loose cannon. I could have played that card, but I didn’t want to…this guy had enough adolescent bullshit to deal with.
“Nothing,” I had replied truthfully. “My house just isn’t the happiest home at the moment, that’s all.”
When there is somebody missing from your house, sometimes things get almost normal. But you can’t possibly hope to fill the void they’ve left, not a chance in hell of that happening, unless that person comes back. But I’d already accepted that wasn’t happening, and even though there was the occasional screaming match, crying session or questioning by my brother, things were pretty much ok at home. So I wasn’t lying to the counselor, but I wished I could tell him things were better.
I was down at the park one day walking the dog after I finished at the job I had replaced school with since I dropped out. Our dog was a border collie, a lively one at that, and I just spent the whole time throwing sticks to him and watching him bolt after them. The past few times I’d seen one particular bloke down there, walking his own dog, and he was there again on this particular day, but he didn’t have his dog with him. He was just walking around, sometimes leaning against this one tree at the edge of the park, but eventually he walked up to me.
“Energetic little thing, isn’t he?” he asked, indicating my dog, who had abandoned the stick and was now clawing at a tree trying to get to a bird.
“Yeah,” I replied casually. “My mum got him down at the animal shelter…he’d been in a fight with a bigger dog.”
The man nodded thoughtfully.
“Tragic when that happens, sometimes…” he said. “Some dogs are never the same again after a bigger dog attacks them, it’s true for my dog.”
“I’ve seen you’re dog down here,” I said. “He’s pretty cute…”
The man laughed.
“Thank you,” he replied.
There was a pause, in which the man drew in a deep breath before speaking again.
“Listen; there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you…” he said. “I mean, I’ve seen you down here a few times with your mother and brother but I’ve been reluctant to ask.”
I gave him a suspicious glance, he seemed uneasy and out of it…but I didn’t think he meant any harm.
“Ask away…” I said, looking at my dog.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked seriously.
I glanced up at him, into his face and eyes. He was dressed casually, in running pants and a Beatles t-shirt, and had light brown hair and blue eyes, vivid blue eyes like mine. But I’d only seen him at the dog park, never anywhere else, so I had to answer negatively.
“No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “Should I know?”
“Well, I’m your dad…” he said.
Those words didn’t shake me at first, because I thought he was having me on. But if he was, then how would he know? I decided at first that I would dismiss his claim…
“Bullshit…” I muttered, before moving forward to grab my dog, but he laid a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m not kidding you, Adrian…” he said. “It’s me…”
He knew my name…so I turned around and stared at him. His expression was inscrutable, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking. I shrugged his hand off and looked at the ground.
“Why now…?” I wanted to know.
“What…?” the man asked.
“Why have you come here now to tell me this?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Do you realize how much time has passed, how much of my life you’ve missed out on and you decide to come back now?”
“Adrian, I…” he started to mutter, ashamed.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I barked, pushing him once hard in the chest so that he stepped back in surprise. “You’ve been away for all this time and you think everything is going to be ok? Are you completely retarded or what?”
“Adrian, I’m your father…” my dad said, taken aback. “Why are you reacting like this?”
I couldn’t believe he actually asked that, mostly because I could completely justify my reaction. He had walked out before I could even talk and now he had decided to come back? I didn’t even want to know why he’d decided to come back after all this time.
“Dad…” I said quietly. “I don’t think you quite understand how hard this is for me…just let me go home and think this over and I’ll be back tomorrow.”
My dad stepped back and nodded.
“Of course…” he replied. “Take all the time you need Adrian, I’ll be right here.”
I beckoned my dog to my side and headed off home, practically running. At that moment, I just wanted to be as far away from my dad as possible…
That night, I found it impossible to sleep, I tossed and turned and lay still, visions of my father’s face crossing my vision. I got up, went downstairs for a drink of water and sat at the dining room table for awhile, and I must have fallen asleep there because mum woke me the next morning for work. I didn’t tell her about dad, but I was fully intending on meeting him there after work.
I went back, and found the park empty except for an old man walking his dog along the outskirts. I stood under this big tree, watching my dog but watching out for my dad above all, it hit six eventually and he still hadn’t shown up. I sighed and went back home, maybe he was as shaken up by this as I was.
After three nights of him not showing up, I was getting fed up. I went down to the park with my dog anyway though, hoping to god that he would be there. Again, I waited and waited under this tree, the same tree I’d seen him leaning against so many nights ago, but still he didn’t come. I turned around to face the tree, maybe bang my head against it and swear…but I noticed a piece of folded paper tucked in some branches. I plucked it out and unfolded it; it was a letter in a hand I did not recognize, but as soon as I started to read it I knew who it was from.
Dear Adrian,
I know I must have given you quite a shock the other day when I approached you in the park, I can’t imagine how distressed, confused and angry you must be feeling. You have to understand it was a hard decision for me to make, but perhaps it was the wrong one.
I believe I have chosen the wrong time to reveal myself to you, Adrian. I was overcome by my love for you and my desire to see my son that I overreacted and rushed it. But I have come to discover that I should come to you when I am a better person, and I promise you and I will be father and son once more.
The reason for my absence from your life for all these years is a very serious one, and it is a problem I hope I can resolve all on my own. But I need time to do it, and I don’t want you to see what I have become, I want you to see the man I used to be; ready and deserving to be a father. You deserve better Adrian, and I will give you better.
I apologize for doing this to you, I shall see you soon.
Regards,
Your father; Christopher H. Ellis
I looked up from the letter, trying to fight back the tears that were itching to come out. When my father had first revealed himself to me, I was so disgusted by his actions that I wanted him to go away. But as I stood there in the middle of that park, I realized that I wanted nothing more in the world than to see my father again. After a while, I folded the letter up carefully and put it in my pocket, before heading home, my dog trailing after me.
It’s a couple of months on now, and I haven’t told mum about her husband. I still read the letter occasionally though, wondering what he’d done and when he was going to come home. I still go down to the dog park, hoping to see him there but I never do. I feel a bit different though, now that I’m not quite so in the dark about my father. I mean I’ve seen him at least, and that’s enough for me.
I don’t feel quite so lonely, and even though that space in my heart will never be filled until my dad returns; I don’t honestly feel that the void is that deep anymore.