Self

Time changes values a lot I guess. Today I wonder what Terence did, when his father died, I never asked him that, I knew, inherently, because of how much I valued Terence, that the loss was terrible, his tacit rejection of being written out of the will because of his actions with Leslie was terrible, I suppose it doesn’t sound like much but I don’t for a moment think he ever blamed Michael or Karen, Leslie perhaps, I know he blamed his mother, but that’s probably because she was the only one openly scornful of him, whilst everyone else, adored and protected him, the only boy of the house, the inheritor, the genius writer whom owned half the city, he was used to being seen as something, he said to me once, in all his vanity, that one of the reasons he liked McCorkel and some other Mcsomething was because they really understood who he was, where he came from. I don’t know how defensible that point is, but I think maybe he meant it with a child’s respect for his father, for his family history, he was raised to believe in their value, in the great deeds done by the McCool’s, grandfather looking after all the dock workers when they went on strike in nought two, that sort of thing, he told me that because of that every single dock worker, remember this was the country that built the Titanic during this period so there were a prolific number of them, would drink at our pubs from then on. In small town Ireland, owning most of the pubs and having the dock workers indebted to you was a very profitable business, the family did so well under grandfather that his seven boys did their best to squander it, some leaving for America and Canada, land of opportunity and all that. Thankfully none of us ever rode the Titanic, that’s one bit of Irish history nobody puts their hands up for. First McCool to die in the troubles wasn’t ours either as best we know, thank goodness because Tommy  McCool was the very first one to die, blew himself and his wife and two children up making explosives in the kitchen. Fucking moron.

I hate Irish history, Terence made me hate it, their perpetual persecution complex, their hard faced humourlessness about it, I’ve got a friend called Darra, that’s not his real name, his real name is Derry, but no one in Ireland was willing to call him that, so he now is known, more than that, he thinks of himself, as Darra… Isn’t that absurd? Well, it is to me at least.

God I’m getting lost the way he did. My point is, I never asked Terence what it was like for him, when his father died, and now I want to know, I figure it’d be the same as me, but, I regret not asking. I miss him when I remember him, I’m getting better at forgetting about him, I can go whole days without remembering lately, I’m falling apart health wise, which may be helping me understanding him a bit better, I realise why he was the way he was in the end, it’s not that the cancer destroys you, just that a lack of energy really does make it hard to move at all, if I walk a couple of hundred meters I am exhausted, if I’m on my feet for half an hour, not moving much, I’m exhausted. Energy isn’t my forte.

I envied Tommy, on the day of the funeral, envied and pitied. That’s an adult’s problem really, there’s such a perfect right as a child to just focus in on yourself, and figure out what it means for you, not worrying what it means for everyone else. Tommy, looked and acted the way, I wanted to feel, devastated, ruined, lost, helpless, he wouldn’t walk next to anyone but he wouldn’t walk far either, this very considered distance. Chloe, was upset that night, talking to Karen going ‘So, does this mean Patrick and Robyn aren’t family anymore?! I don’t like that!" Karen cried of course, as I think anyone would if a little girl said that to you.

I sometimes do Terence type things with Tommy and Chloe now, I’ve got my own relationship with them of course, but, sometimes I like to spoil them the way Terence would, you know, coco pops with chocolate milk, give them ice cream instead of plain milk, buying them lollies and things they’ll be bored of in seconds. Terence really loved them, god how he loved them.

I have those videos of the formula 1 I recorded, I’m not sure if he was aware, I think probably, he’s not stupid, but, I don’t watch them, I can’t yet, I wonder what I will feel, what I will be, when I’m able to watch them, when I can face that. I felt a bit strange for doing it at the time, but it was for this reason, I thought, how awful it would be if my children couldn’t hear him, Terence’s voice is so distinct to me, it’s, it is it’s own existence, to me at least. 

If I ever have a child, and it’s a boy, I hope to name him Aodh, I know it’s not a reasonable expectation, but that’s my hope.