I’ve been writing this in my head for years because his liberation from this earthly realm could have easily happened many times by now.
A fight, a drunken car accident, going under with a burning boat.
The burning boat keeps coming back to me. For as long as I can remember, I think I have been mentally preparing for his death. So I was ready ready ready ready….
One of my earliest memories is running head first into a brick wall. I don’t know how it happened but I do remember when I came to, I was bouncing, flopped over my dad’s shoulder way up in sky, being carried somewhere, quickly. How did he get here so fast? I wondered.
At various times in my life he was my biggest hero and my worst enemy. Over the years he’s rescued me from hospital and jail but we’d also had the scruffs of each others shirts in our fists. “Just fucking hit me!” The Buddha said you become your thoughts. Maybe you create your own myth. I grew up pretty cynical and never sure if I believed the myth of Tony Lewis but it did occasionally prove itself true. “Your dad jumped off the pier to rescue a drowning toddler.” “Turns out the captain was blind, it was getting dark and the engine conked out, so your dad jumped in the sea and towed the boat back to shore.” I saw him jump over a six-foot fence after the neighborhood bully messed with me. I immediately felt bad for the bully. “I’ll never mess with your dad again.” The bully said sheepishly afterward. And then I saw him drive the car blind drunk into the garden, speaking Urdu to the night watchman as we all lifted the car back onto the carport. The more he drank, the more languages he spoke. And then he gave up drinking. “Feel any better without the drink?” “Nope.” He stubbornly replied. I convinced myself I have been prepared for his death for a long time. One of my earliest memories is going to visit him in hospital after he tried to rustle a gang of car thieves. He could have gone out in a fight or down with a burning boat but either way he was never going to go gently into that good night. We knew he’d fight fight fight and I know that was hard for family back in Wales to witness. I have a lot to pack and unpack. A lifetime of drama to pack and unpack but for now I’ll think of him this way.
We are on a quite beach in the Seychelles. I must have been about twelve years old. My dad, tells me to stay on the beach. He’s going for a swim. He swam out way beyond the barrier reef and I’m watching in awe. A little terrified for his safety. His arms like a windmill. How did he get so far out to sea? How far is he going? When will he be back?
Pack and unpack.
