Sad – Pete's Blog

We travelled into Coventry this week. We had been warned that this arm of the Coventry canal can be full of rubbish, but it wasn’t so bad, and it was lovely to be moored in a basin near the centre of town.

I knew very little about Coventry. I knew it was the second city in the UK midlands, and I knew the old cathedral had been destroyed in a German raid in 1940. I had visited it once as a child, and I knew my mother had once had a holiday in Coventry with a young cousin that lived here.

What I had failed to understand was how much the town had been obliterated in the war. After a blitz that lasted about three months at the end of 1940 and the start of 1941, around 75% of all buildings had been destroyed. The Germans used high explosives to take off the roofs of buildings, and then incendiary devices to burn them down. I went to a blitz museum this week and saw footage, with plucky English folk going about their daily lives, surrounded by devastation.

When my Mum went on that holiday in the early 1950s the town would still have been a wreck. Her aunt Dorothy had lived through it and been bombed out of her home twice. Her husband was in the army in India/Burma at the time so Dorothy would have been so scared.

I am aware that the British were equally guilty of such raids, notably Hamburg in 1943. So this is not about who is right and who is wrong. But it is about how tragic the consequences of war are to real people. Coventry is now a vibrant, modern city, but it made me very sad.

My father passed away this week. I have written before about him. He has had advanced Alzheimer’s for several years and in recent times has been a shell of what he was. He knew no-one, could not communicate, could not understand, was incontinent and immobile. It made me deeply sad and angry. I still expected however, that when he passed I would be upset. And yet this week I have been very matter of fact, getting on with the logistics. I am definitely more relieved than grieving. So am I kidding myself? Will this come and hit me later? Or did I do my grieving as he deteriorated and I lost the father and man he once was?

He was a traditional father. I don’t remember him ever hugging me. There were four of us children and as we grew up he was always there for us, but in a quite hands-off way. If we had an intellectual argument he became engaged and was fascinated. He was less good with emotions. This is a little odd because he was a parish priest, and empathy with people in tough situations was part of the job. I think it was just that underneath the image of the vicar, he was always a shy man. I think he was proud of me. I was certainly proud of him.

I do have very happy memories of him. We were lucky to have a stable and safe family environment. There was never much money around, but he kept us clothed and fed. I would add “warm” but we grew up in cold, draughty vicarages where you would wake up to ice patterns on the inside of the bedroom windows. But I am not complaining. That was normal in our generation and we were happy. And we were free. He and our Mum always encouraged our independence. I could leave the house first thing and not return till dusk. From an early age I would go to cub camps, or music weekends by myself. I learnt to be self reliant, in terms of my physical and emotional needs. It made me who I am.

This week I have loved reading the many “With Sympathy” cards that my Mum has received. Dad was involved in many clubs and activities and was held in great respect. What I have loved the most is that these memories are all of how he was before the awful disease took him away. It has helped me remember that man. I loved him.

Bye Dad x

Tag: Sad

Why Coventry made me sad

Don’t I care about losing my Dad?