I didn't have much of an R with my dad when he was alive. He was born in 1931 in Athens, and was from the old school of men that thought kids were women's work, so he didn't do any childcare of me or my siblings. He did play with us sometimes and used to call me agapayma (darling) when I was a little girl, and he was good at telling stories that he just thought up from his imagination.
But his work took him away from home most of the time. He was a singer and would go wherever the work was, which was usually Greece, Cyprus, Belgium, France. He sang in taverna's and on cruise ships to entertain people and he had a really amazing voice. I wish I could sing as well as he could.
Well, my mother was stuck at home with this kid that didn't walk till she was 5 (me), so she did not go with him. We had a flat in Athens and a 3-storey house in London and he spent half his life in the flat while we were at the house.
He'd come back, in between contracts, loaded with Toblerone and other continental delights (now my favourite chocolate) - I think because he was guilty for leaving us. We always got treats. It seemed like he was only home 5 minutes when he had to go again and I'd get in from school and say 'Where's dad?' and my mother would tell me he was in Belgium. Then I'd have to wait another 2 weeks to see him again.
We went over to Greece a few times and they considered moving back to stay there permanently, but my mother was concerned about raising a disabled child in Greece and wanted to be near the UK hospitals and buildings with flat access which you don't find in Greece so much. So we didn't move.
They started to fight because he was never home and my mother felt used - so he took on a Greek Taverna in the UK and worked at that.
It was quite good because me and my baby bro used to help ourselves to cola from behind the bar, and we ate out for free there every Sunday afternoon. We used to have ice cream even when it wasn't on the menu.
My dad was miserable, though, because he only got to sing once a week at 'Greek Night' so they carried on fighting. Then my mother had an affair with the guy next door because she felt neglected. I thought this guy was great, he did all stuff my dad didn't do, like Bonfires and trips to the park and barbecues. He used to swing my baby bro round by his ankles and he'd be shrieking with laughter.
Anyway, my dad found out and my mother filed for divorce. My dad just went back to Greece without saying goodbye to any of us and without closing the taverna.
Initially he tried to keep in touch and had a visit with us once a month or so, but every time he visited, my mother would incite an argument, so in the end he just left and did not persue contact.
My mother would always say 'your father did this' and 'your father did that' every time he was mentioned, so we learnt not to talk about him. I didn't play any of his music for fear of offending her.
After that I saw him another 2 times in the four years before he died. Once was when I was 16 and I plucked up the courage to call him from a pay-phone so he invited me round for a weekend, the second time was when I got engaged to H and I took H to meet him.
He was thrilled I was getting married (Greek people like early marriage so rather than being yelled at for marrying and being pregnant at 18, he congratulated me - I was doing what a good Greek girl should do).
Then he sent me this huge wedding card and �160 to buy a present, in October, two months before the wedding. I was thinking, why is he sending this so early?? There was a letter saying ILY and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I showed H the letter and he said 'that's a goodbye letter.' I refused to believe him. 3 weeks later he was dead.
He never got to see the wedding or any of his grandchildren.
I have not seen his grave as he is burried in Athens and I haven't been back there since.
I often talk to him in my thoughts, though, and feel I have a better R with him than in life. I have no contact with my mother or my brothers and sisters (that's another long story).
