Prologue

This memoir is a testament to you. It is the story of you depicted in moments: as a son and a brother, as a toddler, and a wide-smiling, eyes-glistening, gap-toothed little boy; as a young man: sporty and ripped, sun-kissed and confident, falling in love; as a gentle man, trusted and true, charmed and cheeky; as a newly-wed, faithful and hard-working and fun: a partner, a companion, a husband and friend. And three sons yet to be born. Consider that. Take a breath. And their wives. Then five grandchildren more.

It is an inadequate testament, I’m afraid. You are so much more than even this great wealth of moments can encapsulate. This book is nothing, truly nothing, when matched up against the man I am most proud to call my father. Dad. But it is something, at least, that we can all do for you. A tangible reminder of what you mean, to so many. Never forget, though, that behind each tangible moment, there sit a thousand intangible ways in which you are loved; ways you will never know, ways that you could never have anticipated. And this is how it should be.

Greek tragedy bloodily asserts that there is a moment of anagnorisis in every young man’s life, when the son realises that he must vanquish his father. When he must assert his independence and go it alone. But Sophocles (and Freud) obviously never met my dad. For that is not my experience at all. I never felt any need to vanquish you, because you never tried to hold me back or impose your will. You have simply been there: to listen, to share, to laugh, to cry, and, ultimately, to support in any way you possibly can. Your unwavering presence has allowed my roots to grow deep, alongside yours. And your support, oh, the sheer incredulity, to look back and think of the impossible myriad ways in which you have provided that support. It is both too much for words and impossible to overstate. It has given me, all of us, the wings to fly. Thank you. 

“He’s a good man, your Dad.” It’s been said to me by so, so many. It is a simple statement, on the surface. But it is no simple feat: to be a good man. You nailed it, though. Moment by moment, year after year, you have shown me what it means to be a good man, Dad. And the example you have set will guide me and the generations that follow. Thank you, with all my heart.