Greg and Dad
I’ve chosen this object because I love it. It’s beautiful. It reminds me of sunsets, which are one of my favourite things. Erm I’m just gonna have a look at it now because I’m still in awe of its beauty. It is just such a magnificent piece of artwork but unfortunately from being in the sun for too long, got sunburnt and the neck fell off. So I’m not going to be able to play that guitar today for you. But I can say looking at it that it is my most cherished possession that I inherited from Dad. I knew I was gonna own it because erm my Dad used to let me gig with it. He, I used to nick it off him, play with it all, all the time. It was my favourite guitar of the collection. Erm and, and sadly it hasn’t really been used since its neck was snapped some ten years ago.
I value this object because it reminds me of my Dad. It reminds me of New York. It reminds me of sittin’ outside the front of my parents’ house watching the sun go down, eating tapas, drinking red wine, spending time together. Following that into the evening, playing the guitar together, singin’, laughin’, er jokin’. Came to own this object because my Father passed and he, we have a collection of over twenty guitars, between
my brother, my Father and I. Erm, and my brother and my Dad always knew this was my favourite, so it was, it was mine already really. Dad would hate me to say that, sorry Dad. But he knew it was gonna happen.
When I think of my Dad, first thing I think of is how passionate, driven, witty, intelligent, amazing, and smart he was. He was my best friend and I think of him every day. But the first thing I think of when I think of my Dad is, is stubborn. He was a stubborn git but it was stubborn in the right way. Because of all the things I said before, it made him into the man he was: loving, generous, caring, kind man.
A difficult memory I have of my Dad erm, he used, he lost the use of his limbs because of the cancer that had spread from his bowl ducts into his liver into his neck and shoulder. So I had to come down every night from our home and help my mum to clean him, lift him. And I think that’s probably the most difficult memory that I have of my Dad. And it’s one that I shall try and forget but things like that stick with you forever and you have to live with them.
I don’t really have a faith perspective, my beliefs are in life and in the here and now. And in family and love and prosperity. Er, enjoying good food, friendship, love, good wine. Erm and doin’ the best you can with, with every day. Startin’ fresh everyday, tryna make a difference. Erm and workin’ hard, to the best of your abilities. That’s my, my belief. In terms of how that, my beliefs have influenced my grieving process, I think that I would have done much worse if I’d have not had such a positive outlook on life. I think I’d have been down in the dumps a lot more and possibly hit the bottle. But the strength in me, I get from my Dad and I, and in me, I carry him on.
If I could say one more thing to my Dad it wouldn’t actually be anything because I had the luxury of being able to spend the last six years with him everyday at work, havin’ a family business. But also I wrote him a letter before he passed, which he read and I said everythin’ and more to him that I could have ever have said, or most sons could ever have said to their Father before they go.
I’d like to say I use this object more often but I can’t use it now the neck’s snapped. We’ve tried to repair it but it, it just won’t tune in across the whole entire neck. It, it’s good down low but the rest of it is pretty much, pretty much out of tune. So I would love to use it, in fact I might buy one very similar to it and pretend that it’s the 335: the original one from New York. But for now I’m just gonna have to look at it.
I’ll leave you with this. My happiest memory of my Father was in Portugal, erm in a golfing resort. And we were staying (we don’t golf but it was a nice resort so we stayed there) and it was the evening. Everyone got ready, I was with my wife, my brother and his ex-girlfriend, of the time. And we’d been outside walking through the grounds and we’d, we’d all had a drink. We all came back inside and Dad chose to go round one er, the other side of the building. They had big sliding glass doors, and you can imagine what happens next, Dad walked straight into this door, so hard that it made his nose bleed, his drink smashed on the glass and he fell like a sack o’ shit to the ground! And although it’s n. . . it’s a happy memory for me, it wasn’t for him, but it does make me laugh every time I think of it. Because you had to be there to appreciate just how funny this was. Erm and, and that is a happy memory, cos my Dad, he stormed off in a huff as if it was the window’s fault. And he always did that. He would, it was never his fault and if there was ya know, everyone else would laugh, but we’d all be laughin’ with him.
I love him, I miss him, and I’ll always think of him.