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11th Anniversary.

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Deleted member 20280

Eleven years ago this afternoon I said goodbye to the most amazing father a damaged child could have possible been blessed with.

A father who, although knew nothing of his child's daily beatings was a loving and caring father despite his faults. A father who stood tall every time his little boy went out on that stage and 'Danced with the girls'

Never anything but pride from a Father. The proudest father ever when his eighteen year old son put on that Military Uniform for the first time. My Father.

Today, I will be laying a wreath on your grave Dad. Today, eleven years to the day after I helped lower your coffin into the ground.

Today Dad. I will remember you. I will remember your smiles when your eldest grandchild was born. The glee and love in your eyes when you first held your eldest granddaughter 17 years ago Dad.

My Dad. My Children. My time to stand up and be proud again.

You were there for me Dad. I Could never have told you what they did to me. It would have broken your heart.

Big man stands here today. A big man in stature and build. And I am crying. Crying with shame that it has taken me Eleven years to come to my senses and respect you for the man you were.

MY Father, MY Dad.
 
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My dad, too, was a wonderful man. He raised me pretty well, strictly at first, so I would be tough enough to face what came later in life when I was mistreated. During my teen years I finally had a chance to learn from him, things like cooking and even a little about plumbing (he was a plumber). When he was in his mid-80s was when we got the closest. He was in a nursing home then and I called him every day to keep him from being lonely. No one else in my family would take the time to visit or call much, so it was just he and I. The nurses said he would wait by the phone for my call for hours, chatting with them as they went by with meds and other things for the other patients. Then he would be delighted when I called.

Dad, as this man loves his father, I, too, love you! And I miss you, dad, so much. You were a good daddy to me. Thank you!
 
Sheila thank-you for making me cry.

I have a mother, three brothers and a sister who all live in this town and have every year for the last eleven. Not once have any of them been and put a single flower on my fathers grave.

I found out at the florists this morning I cannot afford a wreath for his grave and I feel so ashamed even though I know deep down I have no need.

So I shall place a single red rose. His favourite with a remembrance cross attached,as he, although never a Military Man because of disability supported Armistice day every year, right up until his health stopped his ability to walk.

I feel guilt and shame at not getting to.his graveside all these years, even though I did not live in this part of the UK until now. Even though I was a family man myself and worked all the time.

I know I have nothing to be ashamed of but I am. Deeply ashamed.
 
Dear Santa Laurie, Crying is such a needed thing, especially in these circumstances. Be not ashamed of that or that you could not be there before now. Your father knows you love him, and that is what matters most. Love is far more important than a wreath for his grave or that you were near it physically. Be comforted, don't be ashamed. Remember that in Jesus' sermon on the mount, He said that those who mourn would be comforted. Take that comfort and run with it. I do. I was not able to have children, my husband has died, as have both my parents and everyone from that generation and those beyond it into the past. So I need that comfort a lot.
 
I have been to my fathers grave. That in itself has to be one of the hardest milestones of my life.

Whilst there I became extremely disorientated. My house mates girlfriend was kind enough to drive me to the cemetery as I am unable to walk for long distances due to chronic injury.

(S) and I arrived there and I was sobbing my eyes out. Placing a single Rose on my fathers grave really does mean the world to me. She held my hand and comforted me the whole time. She hugged me, this woman has only known me for 4 weeks, 4 weeks !!!.

My Mother gave birth to me. Supposedly cared for me as I was nurtured from the cradle, through infant hood and made a man of me.

Guess what did she **** (sorry Dad)

This thread is not the place for me to re-cover old threads apart from to state I suffered so much at her hands. Tenderness at my fathers. He never saw her abuses of me. And I never ever told him. I loved him too much to ever see him hurt.

I could not find the gravestone. I was panicked and sobbing. Desperate to find my fathers grave. So, I rang my mother.

What I was told then nearly made me see red. Those who know me well here, will know what happens if I see Red! Lets leave it at that.

I told my family months ago that I was going to the cemetery today. My family hmmmmm. Not any more.

I was rather curtly told. "Well son, if you had bothered to come to he house. I would have drawn you a map!!!". Excuse me. I am one of 4 brothers still alive. We have a sister, our mother is still alive. Why did she, or they not come with me, knowing how distressed I have been this month, they all know how bad October as a month is for me.

Why did they not come with me? Because not one of them has bothered to pay my father a moments respect in eleven years. The dishevelled state of his cemetery plot, lack of any flowers what so ever. Even droopy or dead ones!. That man was a solid rock in my life. I was never in a position to visit his grave each year as I lived away. Raising my own family, working the best part of the week to provide for them. Every October 31 in the last eleven years I have donated money to the Poppy Appeal, in lieu of flowers. I have paid my respects to my Father every year in whatever way I have been able to. Living over 90 minutes drive away made simply popping back not an easy task with a family. But I paid my respects.

Finding my fathers final resting place in the flowerless and over grown state it was in destroyed me. Knowing that none of them, bearing in mind they all lived here the whole time could bother even once to visit his grave.

My promise to my father is this. I will bloody bother Dad. I feel ashamed of and disgusted at the lot of them.
You were my dad as well and the reason I have had such a distressing day today is my own guilt at not being able to visit you more these last eleven years. Well no more. Fresh flowers will be placed on your grave every week. By me dad, by me.

I cannot bring myself to even bother calling any of them, let alone actually shout my disgust at them. I am a bigger man and like my dearly departed Father before me, when I need to stand and be counted, I do.

You will always be my dad, I will always love you, dearly.
 
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