Letters 2019
Letter 55
4th June 2019 (Spain)
Dear D,
I am in Spain again, having arrived here very late last night. The Easyjet flight was uneventful, arriving 20 minutes early and my sister collected me from the airport. I was in bed by midnight after a quick snack. Today I have just returned from lunch with your aunt and one of her brothers in law. We had an enjoyable local meal of beef cheek and chips in sauce with a bottle of wine. The sky is blue with not a cloud in sight and the temperature around 30°, much warmer than London. With the combination of the heat and wine, I feel the need for a siesta. The mosquito who tried to dive bomb me last night, is still around; or maybe it is his mate, determined to continue his annoying behaviour until I manage to chase him out of the room. I sit up in the bed, tiredness at bay for the moment and decide to write to you. It is your 22nd birthday today, so you are on my mind more than usual. I would love to be able to wish you a very happy birthday in person, but will have to do so through this letter which will aim its way into the ether trying to find you. Your aunt also wishes you a happy birthday and all the very best.
You must have been about four or five when you had a holiday in Spain with our family for two weeks in the summer. We stayed in a hotel complex near the sea. It wasn’t a brilliant hotel, although the food was good, we met some nice people and the pool surround, where we spent a lot of our time relaxing, was pleasant. One of us had to get up early each morning, usually me, to place our towels near the pool before the Germans got there. You had just learned the basics of swimming, so we were relaxed about you being near or in the water. One day we were meandering around investigating the complex chatting, among other holidaymakers, looking at some local shops, when all of a sudden we realised you were nowhere to be seen. We all imagined you were with one or other of us, but it became clear you weren’t and you had gone missing. We asked people around had they seen a young child, giving a description of your height and what you were wearing, but to no avail. We had just been to visit some friends on the sixth floor of one of the hotel blocks and wondered if you had tarried there, so I ran up the stairs in a panic, to discover you were not there either. The anxiety I felt, that something untoward may have happened, is still clear in my memory. I ran down the stairs to discover to my absolute relief that you had been located, having wandered into a shop, hidden from view, attracted by some trinkets. It is interesting that that incident stands out most for me of that holiday. I am in a different part of Spain now, away from the tourist zone, where your aunt has just moved house and I am helping her to settle in. I have never been in this town before and have just been out for a walk to explore. There are children playing outside, who look and smile but hardly pay attention to me. The streets are narrow with front doors opening directly onto a narrow pavement allowing a glimpse into attractive interiors. It is reassuring when people say ola as I pass by, somehow making me feel accepted to be here; not like gruff London. I am to find out details of the tasks my sister wants me to do tomorrow.
I am afraid I didn’t get to finish your letter. I have been busy over the last few days hanging shelves, fixing a support bracket for the smart TV, hanging picture frames among other chores. One of your Spanish cousins arrived and we have just returned from a lovely meal with a bottle of local wine. So just before bed is the first opportunity I have had for time on my own. I really wish you had the opportunity to come here. If I remember, you received an A* in Spanish in your GCSE exams so it would be a great opportunity to practice your language skills. Another cousin lives nearby in a beautiful self-sufficient house in the countryside with a vineyard as a next door neighbour. She is coming for breakfast tomorrow morning with her six year old daughter. Again I can only regret that you are not able to spend time with them. But I am sure you live a full life in your own circle, as I can only imagine you will use all your undoubted talents to make the best of your life.
Sorry about the delay in posting this. I miss you lots and will write again as soon as I can.
With all my love for now,
Dad xxx
Letter 56
7th June 2019 (at home)
Dear D,
I am by myself in my flat and have just watched two programmes on TV, the first on iPlayer as it attracted my attention and the second following it when I switched to live channel. They weren’t related, but both brought you to mind, the second much more so, which you will understand when I tell you about it. The first was about homeless girls in the UK. Homelessness is a non-subject here, especially with all the prancing and preening about Brexit. Not that Brexit is a compelling topic of discussion. Materialist Britain doesn’t recognise homelessness as a reality, preferring to imagine it doesn’t exist. We all step over or around sleeping bags on pavements or in shopfronts as an irritant with no thought for the person encased inside. The programme showed four young women without a home to call their own living on their wits in built up areas, looking for handouts, moving their bedding from place to place, when moved on, finding a sheltered hideaway usually on a public pavement. They were all in their twenties, looked presentably even considering their living status, talkative, determined to make their way in life, even feisty. But all down on their luck in one way or another, with one of them standing out for me. She was maybe twenty two and had been homeless for eight months since her mother died when she was evicted from the flat she shared with her mother. She felt she had no control over her life and a comfortable previous life had disappeared. She was accepting of her fate and bad luck, which had crept up on her totally unexpectedly and she wondered and even suggested that it was the kind of fate that could many if not any of us. It was not that I imagined you in that position as I am sure you have a support network around you, but as a throwaway line, she said she had tried to contact her father but he was not in a position or maybe even prepared to help her. Isn’t that what a father should do; help one of his children in his or her need? Would I come to mind if you were in need? I can’t answer that for you, but I can tell you that I would be the first to run to help any of my children and of course you most of all. I can only leave that thought hanging in the air.
The other programme was ‘Long Lost Families’. You don’t fit into this category as it was and presumably is still your choice to separate from me. The mention that it was your choice does not reflect the reality that you did not make that logical choice to walk away, you were clearly influenced by others; in fact I believe you had no choice to make, all choices were made for you. I was removed from your environment by the Court, by what I can only call a ‘sleight of hand’. You had your mind made up for you and were programmed to live your life from then on without my involvement. I know that your twelve year old self would have naturally turned away from your dad for direction in your life as you approached puberty, but what actually happened was way beyond an expected subtle change in our relationship; it should never have become permanent. But I have gone off at a tangent again. I was to tell you about the TV programme. Two family situations did make me reflect on you and I had tears in my eyes at one point. The first was a mother who hadn’t seen her son and daughter for fifty years. She had a child at age sixteen and was made to marry the boy who was three years older. She soon became pregnant again, although the relationship was not working and the couple separated, but the mother did not have any support structure, was penniless and then homeless. The children were taken into care and she was told not to contact them, to give them a chance in life, as she was incapable of providing for them. She always felt guilty about what she felt was her abandonment of her children and lost track of them. Fifty years later, when their foster parents had died the brother and sister made efforts to contact their natural mother, having had a happy upbringing with their foster families. The reunification was very touching and she successfully bonded with her children. The other family was equally poignant, but was closer to our situation. A woman in her thirties who had been adopted at only eighteen days old was trying to find out about her birth parents. She had a happy upbringing although she always knew she was adopted. She discovered her mother quite quickly, but discovered that she had separated from her father when she was passed over for adoption and did not remain in touch. The only information she was able to give her daughter was that her father was Irish. The investigation progressed to the part that made me shed a tear, with the discovery that her father had died. She was never to be able to have that hug she craved; but she discovered that he had two daughters she knew nothing about. She went on to meet up with them, her two unknown sisters, discovering many similarities and of course all about her father in a tearful reunion. The bit that struck me was that in searching for her father, she discovered he had died. I just don’t want to pass way before we are reunited, most likely as you set out to find me.
My hope for you is that you are that bright, intelligent, loving, compassionate person you always were when we were together; that you will be happy with your life, hardworking, diligent and successful in your choice of career, develop lasting and fruitful relationships, in particular your closest partner, that you will develop your Christian beliefs and have the gift of good health. And so much more, but most of all I hope you can become reconciled with me and me you. I can’t say anymore.
With all my love for now,
Dad xxx