There’s a new
book out called Single Father, Better Dad
(by Mark Tucker), and it got me thinking back to my childhood and
reflecting on the great wonder of my own Single Father – a larger-than-life
character with an amazing passion for life.
Dad wasn’t an exemplary husband – he was wild and irresponsible, and he liked the good times to roll on and on (just some of the reasons Mum left him when my sister and I were little). But he was a fabulous father.
Way back when divorced parents were a rarity among my peers and ‘single dad’ wasn’t yet common terminology, my sweet Dad was leading the way. He cared little for worldly possessions and money was scarce, but he gave my sister and I the greatest gift of all – every single ounce of his spare time.
Each Saturday without fail he would swing by and collect us in his work van, and we would help him deliver ice-creams and spread his good cheer to all the shops dotted around our outback town.
Sunday afternoons Dad would pick us up again for our regular family roast with our Croatian grandparents and cousins, after which we’d do the rounds of the neighbourhood, stopping in at countless houses for a chat – to the point where we knew pretty much every living soul in the south part of town.
He’d take us to his favourite football club or to watch the Croatian community gather for a game of bocce or a celebration of some kind. Then, as we got older and occasionally stayed with Dad overnight, he would think up all sorts of mischief for the three of us to get up to… Like scaling the fence of the local pool for a midnight swim, or breaking into a mate’s backyard to give his prize birds a taste of freedom. He'd even let us cut his hair – something I definitely had no talent for.
There were no curfews if we wanted to go to a party, he had no problem with us going to nightclubs way before we should have been and we could tell him absolutely anything, knowing there would be no judgement and little consequence. It was pretty much like hanging out with an oversized kid – one with an extremely sharp wit, an endless thirst for fun, a car and all the friends you could ever want.
Whenever we parted Dad would throw his arms around us and openly declare his great love – it was a beautiful thing that came so completely naturally to him.
Dad wasn’t an exemplary husband – he was wild and irresponsible, and he liked the good times to roll on and on (just some of the reasons Mum left him when my sister and I were little). But he was a fabulous father.
Way back when divorced parents were a rarity among my peers and ‘single dad’ wasn’t yet common terminology, my sweet Dad was leading the way. He cared little for worldly possessions and money was scarce, but he gave my sister and I the greatest gift of all – every single ounce of his spare time.
Each Saturday without fail he would swing by and collect us in his work van, and we would help him deliver ice-creams and spread his good cheer to all the shops dotted around our outback town.
Sunday afternoons Dad would pick us up again for our regular family roast with our Croatian grandparents and cousins, after which we’d do the rounds of the neighbourhood, stopping in at countless houses for a chat – to the point where we knew pretty much every living soul in the south part of town.
He’d take us to his favourite football club or to watch the Croatian community gather for a game of bocce or a celebration of some kind. Then, as we got older and occasionally stayed with Dad overnight, he would think up all sorts of mischief for the three of us to get up to… Like scaling the fence of the local pool for a midnight swim, or breaking into a mate’s backyard to give his prize birds a taste of freedom. He'd even let us cut his hair – something I definitely had no talent for.
There were no curfews if we wanted to go to a party, he had no problem with us going to nightclubs way before we should have been and we could tell him absolutely anything, knowing there would be no judgement and little consequence. It was pretty much like hanging out with an oversized kid – one with an extremely sharp wit, an endless thirst for fun, a car and all the friends you could ever want.
Whenever we parted Dad would throw his arms around us and openly declare his great love – it was a beautiful thing that came so completely naturally to him.
 |
| ... It's all kids need. |
I still have the countless letters he sent when I was all grown up and travelling the world. They’re handwritten in his signature upper-case style and signed off with a giant hand-drawn heart emblazoned with the words ‘I LOVE YOU’, and they will be forever treasured.
It’s been almost 13 years since that big-hearted man made his grand departure, packing the local cathedral to the rafters with just about everyone he had ever met, and I can still hear his bellowing laugh and feel that boundless love. If X and I have made our sons feel even half as loved as me and my sister, then I would argue that a large part of our job is done.
Dad certainly had his flaws, and I can’t say whether or not it was being a single father that made him a better dad. But having so much time with him sure made his finest qualities shine as bright as a million stars, and my sister and I can never talk about him without laughing out loud.
LOVE YOU, DAD. MISS YOU. xxx
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