manifestationsofawanderings-blog

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Remembering my Father, Things I Never Got to Say

Remembering My Father

It has been 12 years since the sudden passing of my father. To say it had a profound impact on my life would be an understatement. It changed me in ways I never even realized, changes in myself I could not see until I began my journey of self-development late last year. The following post is a tribute to my father, the man who moulded me into the individual you see before you today. Remembering the good times and the bad.  

Over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to reach back and pluck out my earliest memories of my father. The ones that keep coming back to me are of us doing karate in the kitchen. Well, it was Dad trying to teach us karate and mostly us jumping off of counter tops thinking we were ninja turtles. This memory really got me thinking as to what kind of man my father was, and I can honestly say i now know where my weirdness hails from. Growing up in Balinora, Leaving school early to become a tradesman and winding up being one of the last French Polishers to obtain his papers in Ireland my father was a craftsman through and through. That is still evident to this day within our house. Cabinets all over the house in pristine condition 34 years after being installed, decking towards the back of the house that allows us to host BBQ’s on these wonderful summer evenings (which was completed during a long stretch off work off work thanks to Gout!), Garden furniture etc. His work is also evident throughout the country. Closest to home would be the Bar in Hayfield Manor. Dad constructed and installed the bar for the prestigious 5* hotel which will always hold a special place in my heart having plied my trade there as well. To say my father was a talented tradesman is an understatement. To say he had a wide range of interests would also not do him justice. If the position of Groundskeeper of an estate house, bow and arrow marksman and black belt karate sensei all tied in one were available, he would have been a shoe in. A memory that speaks to the trickster in him brings me back to Halloween circa 1994. We were next door at my uncle’s house and as we were leaving this looking white ghost like figure vaulted the wall with the grace of Shergar and glided towards us! My poor grandmother nearly had her 3rd heart attack on the spot and I dropped my KitKat and bowl of Pringles. Turned out to be dad in a bed sheet! I later evolved this costume to include roller blades to add a better gliding motion but that’s a different story. This is who he was. A prankster.  

Many of my fondest memories come from our family holidays. As youngsters we were taken on little trips to Galway and spent many a long weekend camping in Barleycove. These were special times and the arguments over how to put up the tent were always of biblical proportion. We also went on a number of trips across the Irish to Wales. Garth Brooks song “Ireland” was always the first song played on these trips. We stayed in caravan parks, went on trips to Oakwood Theme Park where the only ride Dad would go on would be the Toboggan Rides. We went to slate mines in the mountain and on a trip to see where King Arthur was buried. To us as kids these were days filled with wonderment and joy. For Dad it must have been boring as hell, but he did it all with a smile and joke and created happy memories for us. To some up the man he was and his sense of humour i have one story I love to tell. When holidaying in France we stopped in a small village to get some lunch on the trip south. Mam was driving and was reversing into a parking space. Dad was leaning out the window doing the “you’re alright, you’re alright back away” routine. Suddenly without warning he yelled “Jesus watch out for the child!!!!!” and he slapped the side of the car. Of course Mam thought she was after killing a young Frog and was going to create an international incident (not sure why she was worried about this, the French would surely have surrendered to us in a short space of time) and was freaking out. After realizing there was no dead child the rest of the trip south was frosty to say the least. The silence was only broken by Dad giving directions, another comical exchange as his pronunciation would not have been the best! But it is by far one of my fondest childhood memories. It also explains where I get my warped sense of humour from as it is exactly the kind of prank I would pull!   

A lot would change in the 3 years after this French Exchange. Within those 3 years Dad passed on and my life changed on a dime. 

The morning my father died will live with me forever. Having come home from work the day before complaining of being sick he spent the entire night in bed. The next morning instead of going to work with my uncle I opted to stay home at mam’s request in case Dad, who was still very sick needed anything. I walked down the lane to tell my uncle I would not be working that day. Little did I know within an hour I would be calling him to tell him Dad had passed. As I was walking back up the lane I had a sudden sense of dread and began to run. To this day I don’t know what prompted me to do so. As I got closer to the house I heard a scream. I ran faster. I got the house to find a scene no young boy should have to face. My mother was administering CPR to my father, also trying to communicate with the ambulance crew en route. Having taken over CPR duties for a few minutes I went outside and waited for the ambulance. They arrived and within seconds were working on Dad. A few minutes my world stopped as they confirmed what I already knew to be true. Dad was gone. 

The rest of that is somewhat of a blur but the mornings events will stay with me forever. Word began to filter out and neighbours and family began to flock to the house. We made the extremely tough phone call to my brother to inform him of the news, he was working in Cavan at the time. The respect and admiration I have for his co-workers at that time is unparalleled. Without hesitation and to the detriment of their business they piled Nigel into a truck and bootlegged it home. I am forever grateful to those men for doing such a thing. 

The next few days went by very quickly and the situation was overwhelming to say the least. The one comfort I got from the whole thing was seeing how loved the man I called my father was. People I had never even met came from far and wide to pay their respects. All offered anecdotes and shared stories, at the time they seemed insignificant but in the years after became a comfort. Stories like when he went to see the Boss (Bruce Springsteen) in Dublin with his friend Kizzie (RIP) and Kizzie’s father. Something went down and he and Kizzie’s father ended up in fistie cuffs with some young fellas. Through some miracle he managed to sweet talk the security, get the lads thrown out and managed to get into the vip section right up the front. Silver tongued devil. A trait myself and my brother have both inherited.    

At the time I was very angry. Angry because I felt I now had to step up. At the age of 17 I felt I had to grow up faster than most and it seemed that overnight I went from being a young care free lad to a man. Bear in mind I still had a leaving Cert to do. I was confused. What do I do now? How do I deal with this? Resentment for the fact he was going to miss so much. I looked around and continue to look around and see friends celebrating events with their fathers. Father’s Day pints, going to matches, celebrating weddings, celebrating graduations, becoming grandfathers. I know I will have any of these things and it hurts. All I have are memories. Memories of him coming from work late, leaving the peas boiling in the pot and falling asleep and coming into the kitchen nearly on fire and the worst smell I have ever encountered. Actually no, the worst smell I have ever encountered was when he gave our dog Paddy some left over curry. Sitting room was uninhabitable for around 3 weeks. Seriously it was Chernobyl.  

So I dealt with it the only way I knew how. I buried my feelings. I put on the brave front and became the jester of the group. In recent times we have heard many stories of how comedians mask their pain through comedy. I see a lot of that in myself. I tried to immerse myself in so many things I tried to limit my free time as much as possible. This was easy in the early years. Hurling, Football, Study, Work all helped. Before I knew it i was off to college. Before I knew I was after 2 stints and had completely changed direction on my professional career.     All the while I carried this deep resentment with me. Why did he have to go? At the time of my life when I needed him most? 

I have had many failures and let many people down in the last number of years. Some part of me has always blamed this on the fact I lost my father. It has only been in the last year or so I have realized that losing my father has made me a stronger person, and he gave me all the tools I needed to succeed in life and be the best version of myself. He instilled a work ethic that is unrivalled. To the day he died the man worked himself to the bone. 14 hour shifts are a regular occurrence for me now. I don’t think I would be able for these if he had not set such an example. He was an extremely generous man, many times to his own detriment, but he was always there to help a lending hand. Whether it be helping a neighbour restore a vintage tractor, taking my Grand Uncle to Whiddy Island to see where he grew up, buying a round of drinks in the bar he was always a very giving and generous person, A trait I hope to carry and utilize every day. He was a comedian, always had a joke. Mostly simple puns but he was so quick off the mark. I see this in myself. I know it annoys people when I always have something to say, but it was bred into me from a young age.

All in all my father was a good man. He tried every day to make the world a better place. Not on a mass scale but in everyday life. Whether it be cracking a joke about taking the horse to France, about a suspected terrorist we saw hanging around the boat club in Kinsale (he loved boats, ironically could not swim), helping a neighbour or leaving work early to drop us to a training or a match, in his own special way he was always there. 

In the last year I have made some pretty significant changes in my life. Part of that process of self-discovery has been to let go of my bitterness towards the man who gave me life. Passing on was not his choice, but the brief time he had on this earth he marched to the beat of his own drum. He loved life and took it as it came. He had dreams that went unfulfilled. I plan on fulfilling as many of those dreams as possible. He loved dogs, and always wanted a Husky. This past week we added little Loki to our Family. Dad always wanted to buy a Jaguar, A Jag will be my next car. He always wanted the best for his boys, so i will do my best to live my best life and make you proud. Have a pint of Murphys in heaven and rest easy. 

I will play some Garth Brooks in your honour.     

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A Sobering Thought

“ In reality, all men are sculptors, constantly chipping away the unwanted parts of their lives trying to create a masterpiece.” 

I write my first blog post with a sober mind, something I cannot say I have had for the last 10 years or so. For years I was living in somewhat of a bubble, thinking it was OK to consume as much alcohol as i was consuming and still persuading myself I did not have a problem. It was not until I made the decision to go alcohol free that I realised just how big my problem was. 

For me the big wake up call came towards the end of the summer when I saw myself in some pictures at an awards ceremony and was shocked by what I saw. A shell of myself from 10 years ago when I was young and fit and ready to take on the world. Now I had become this overweight, tired looking zombie who was just going through the motions. I decided that day i wanted to better myself, to put forward the greatest version of myself that I possibly could. The foundation of this new and improved Dave would be to give up alcohol. the following 6 weeks would prove to be a struggle, one I did not anticipate to be so hard. 

Working in the hospitality industry has been the greatest time of life. Meeting so many wonderful people from around the world, working in different cities and making so many friends along the way. However, working in this industry also comes with many pressures, pressures that many industry professionals try to alleviate through substance abuse. Cocaine, alcohol, nicotine even coffee are all consumed, more often than not to excess. 

As for me, my major vice was alcohol. My relationship with this drug started off on a very rocky road. I did not drink until days before my 18th birthday (this was due in most part to seeing the effects of alcohol from a very young age), a very late bloomer by today’s modern standards. From there i moved on to college where i became the classic binge drinker. Drink to excess 3 times a week, That was only First Year!! over the coming years it got worse, to the point where I was consuming copious amounts of alcohol 6 nights a week. This continued for several years right through 2 stints in college. In this time I went from being a very active and healthy 18 year old, to an out of shape, overweight, unhappy 25 year old. Even though I knew I had a problem, alcohol had such a hold of me I always ignored it. “Dave is always up for a sesh”, “Dave is always up for a drink” were statements synonymous with my friends throughout my 20′s. I paid no attention, It felt good to be a “social butterfly” and to always company. It was during the times when i was alone, that I was left to confront my demons. These demons will be dealt with in a later blog. 

There were so many instances during these 10 years where i would wake up after a night out with no recollection of how I got home, where I was or who I was with. At the time I played this off as being part and parcel of being in my 20′s, comes with the territory so to speak. But in the last year or so I have come to the realisation that this had to change. I was sick of looking at my phone in the morning with a sense of dread, scared of what nonsense I may have sent to a close friend under the influence. it had ruined a couple of close relationships at that point, enough was enough. Another factor was the fact that i was able to function so well after being out the night before. Showing up to work, putting in a 12 hour shift without batting an eyelid showed me my tolerance had reached an unhealthy level, hangovers were not a factor for me. I didn’t get them. I had become a highly functional alcoholic and that was a sobering thought. The fact that I had woken up in an emergency room on more than one occasion also led me to believe that enough was enough. 

After talking to a couple of industry colleagues who have been very public about their sobriety, while I myself was inebriated was the final straw. I awoke on Tuesday October 3rd, with a Banging hangover, looked at myself in the mirror and decided “today is the day I end my personal relationship with alcohol”. That was a month ago and I feel like a new person. 

It is like the fog of war has been lifted from my mind. My thoughts are clearer. I wake up earlier, I have become a more productive member of society. The cycle of work, drink, sleep, work, drink, sleep has been broken. I wake up earlier, get out and get some exercise to start every day. I am eating healthier, working smarter and sleeping with a somewhat reasonable routine. Lets face it, in hospitality there is no such thing as a SET routine. Even though it has only been a month the changes have been immense. I have lost a few pounds, have re discovered my focus and am determined to become the best version of myself in all aspects of life.      

My journey is far from over. As I publish this I have overcome a major obstacle in tackling my sobriety. I have managed to get through my first big social gathering where the alcohol has been flowing. When people asked (shocked more often than not) “Why aren’t you drinking?” my reply was short, “I don’t drink anymore. I didn’t like the person I had become when I consumed alcohol.” That was it. short and sweet. Most people understood, some didn’t. It has left me feeling confident going forward, confident in who I am as a person, confident that I will achieve my goals set forth on the fateful day in October to become alcohol free for 1 year, partake in Tough Mudder 2018, Live a healthier life, Become a friend to anybody who may be experiencing similar struggle in their own personal life. 

As an individual who has spent his entire life surrounded by the negative affects of alcohol, from childhood, through my teens, in my “fun” twenties and even now, while I fight my own battle for sobriety I have to deal with another loved one who is fighting a much deeper addiction. I implore anybody that may be experiencing a similar struggle to myself to go get help. There is plenty of it out there. All you have to do is ask. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I know it has been long winded but putting it down on paper has been such a release. 

Remember, it is OK not to be OK. 

Talk soon,

Davey