They used to be in a box. (Sigh) Progress.

I saved and saved up all my pocket money to get my Dad something special for Father’s Day. Mum took me to the shops and I went directly to Darrell Lea, running off before she could offer advice involving socks or cheap whisky. Darrell Lea in those days was an absolute mind bender. Tiny glass bottles filled with striped tooth-cracking sweets. Rows of glistening caramel fudge. Straps of liquorice in vivid black and, get this: red.  Shelves and shelves of cellophane wrapped delicacies to make taste buds zing.

I walked round and round, breathing in the sugar infused air and forgetting why I was there, until my eyes lit upon the tiny eggs of excellence, known as scorched almonds. I knew I must have them. I counted out my silver and copper and secreted them away, ready for the big day.

My Dad looked at my face when he opened his present, and so he knew how special I thought it was. He looked at my eyes, and not at the wrapping, and so when he carefully tore it open, he saw a way to build me up and create another blanketing of self confidence, his mouth turning up a little at the corners as he told me scorched almonds were his favourite things ever.

I will never know if that was true, or if it became true with time, as the years added up, every time I remembered. And every time he pretended to be surprised that the familiar box, with the comforting clunks inside, were his scorched almonds. “You remembered my favourites,” he would say, and my chest would puff up, prouder than an airbag, and I knew I could arm-wrestle the world right there, and I would win.

It has been a few years since I have been able to give my Dad his scorched almonds. A few years since we have been able to sit together in silence, eating our almonds in our own ways. Him: crunching through the thick chocolate to get to the nut quickly and eat it all as one. Me: slowly sucking the weird, shiny layer off first, then allowing the chocolate to dissolve and dissolve until finally chomping the almond, with tiny traces of chocolate remaining in the grooves.

It has been a few years, and still, every year I buy the almonds, and every year I eat them alone. Alternating between his way and mine. Remembering all the times he built me up a little bit and then a little bit more. Until the layers of confidence, resilience, tenacity, strength were as thick as the bitter-sweet chocolate, buffering, protecting the nut inside.

Vale Peter Cartney McShane, and Happy Father’s Day.

It still hurts like a bitch.

…From The Ashers xx

Cyndi O’Meara once told me about a thing she and Howard do called the “Rocking Chair Test”.  If they are getting all intense about something, they apply the RCT.  They imagine themselves, ancient and Yoda-like on their verandah, sitting in their rocking chairs, and looking back on their lives.  What will they think of the trials and challenges of today?  Will they be full of meaning and intensity, or will they just be little blips on the radar of life? The RCT, kind of helps you get a bit of perspective.  (Sorry Cyndi, I may have made that Yoda bit up.)

Today I am applying the Rocking Chair Test to our kids, in the wake of Father’s Day, and all things family-like.

What will it be like, looking back on the job we did as parents, and the childhood we helped create for our children?  Will we remember with dread, all the crumbs under the dining table and the tears over broken toys?  Or will we wish, just once, that we could still heal broken things with a big hug and a bit of super-glue?  Will we miss those errant crumbs?

What will we think of the challenges that the kids have faced?  Will we wish we could wipe them away with the flick of an Enjo, or will we love and embrace them for being the very things that made our children stronger, more resilient, more tenacious?

What will we think of the statement “I just want them to be happy?”  Will that still be our mantra, or will we look back with the perspective that only time can bring, and think perhaps there’s more to life than being happy all the time?

I hope that we will rock in our chairs in the afternoon sunlight, one gnarled hand holding another, and say that our children had lives that were happy, sad, funny, boring, joyful, challenging, meaningful, and daring.  I hope they will be curious, take risks, rise to challenges, laugh, play and bask in the sunlight.

I hope we will sit together, on all the Father’s Days yet to come, and say, “We had a good life.”  Sometimes happy, sometimes not, but good.

 …But I won’t miss the bloody crumbs.  I just swept yesterday!

What will you miss?

Wanna come and clean up my crumbs?

The kids have been jumping all about, getting excited about Father’s Day, and their chance to show Nathan their amazing homemade gifts.  I haven’t seen what they’ve made, but let me tell you,  it will be hard to beat the laminated, hand drawn “tie” from 2012.

I asked them this morning what the best thing about their dad is.

Liam said, “That he can make anything. He’s a carpenter you know”.  (Yep, I picked that up, thanks.)

Coco said, “How he tickles my feet with his scubble (sic) in the morning, and how he calls me Snickers, but he doesn’t call me Snickers anymore because it makes me want to eat Snickers, so yeah, not so much the Snickers thing, but the scubble thing, that’s funny.”

So there you go Nath, I couldn’t get anything else out of them.  Beards and construction.

I’ve got a few more ideas though, and yes it does look like a list.  This is why I think Nath is the duck’s nuts:

• That he is honest and fair and trustworthy and loyal and dependable, and his children know that
• That he is a hands-on Dad, and the kids know that he’s an equal parent
• That he cooks their dinner, reads them books at bedtime and gives them big, big hugs
• That he is always available for chats, or games, or mucking around
• That he knows how to make them laugh
• That he follows up on his promises, and keeps his word, so they can trust him
• That he is fiercely protective of them, and they can rely on him to keep them safe
• That he makes them billy-carts
• That he plays Sylvanian Families, spots possums and kicks the footy
• That he knows many, many, really crap kid-jokes
• That he loves them best
• That he truly believes that everything will work out in the end, so they catch his calm
• That he takes them fishing and surfing and camping, and teaches them how to do it for themselves
• That he dances with them, sings with them, so they love music too
• That I suspect he really wanted to breast-feed Liam himself, and calls him ‘my little mate’
• That he cried and cried along with me when we were learning about Coco’s diagnosis way back when
• That his arms are strong, his soul is open, and his heart is big.

Happy Father’s Day Nath, you rock.

Does the Dad in your life rock?

Did you have a happy day today?

..Pop in tomorrow for Father’s Day, yet to come

This Sunday is Father’s Day.

Some of us have them around to celebrate with; to buy them shonky gifts or, to make even worse ones, or as I used to do; to buy the same old Scorched Almonds from Darrell Lea just to see if: 1. they were surprised, and 2. I had any change left over for some Bo Peep lollies for myself.

And some of us only have the memories.

I’m going to share with you the page I wrote for my Dad’s eulogy.  Sounds a bit melancholy, I know, but I guess if you are playing along with me here, I’d like you to know what an amazing father he was to me.

Lessons From the Heart

Some people in the world try to teach others by lecturing or instructing, and some just quietly clear their throat, take a pause, and  gently lead by example…

When you brought me home a new book every Friday, no matter what kind of day you’d had, I learnt to value intellect, and to deliver on promises made.

When you quietly sat back and taught me to drive, without yelling even once, I learnt the value of calmness and patience.

When you would put down whatever you were doing, to help me with my homework, I realised the gift of letting children know they are more important than anything else.

When I cheated on your Rubik’s cube to get ten dollars, and you found me out, and just quietly said you were disappointed, I learnt to value of integrity and honour, and never cheated again.

When you took me on the Mad Mouse even though we were both terrified, I learnt to face my fears, and that sometimes we can lean on each other when things get tough.

When I saw all the things that you would quietly do for others, without need for accolades or repayment, I saw how wonderful things come from bringing happiness to the lives of others.

When I saw how you looked at my Mum, and I heard the phone ring for her every day, I learnt what it is to love someone with all your heart.

When I saw you hold our tiny babies, so tenderly and so naturally, I realised how much you sacrificed to be part of our family.

When I saw the joy you had guiding and playing with our children, I saw that unconditional love really does exist.

When I saw your silent suffering and the pain behind your smiles, I understood what true courage is, and how much you loved us, to try and spare us from your agony.

When I saw you take your last breaths, I learnt that the most important thing on this Earth is to live fully and love completely, and then to let go.

Thank you, my wonderful teacher.

 Happy Father’s Day to you all.

…Pop over tomorrow for Father’s Day, Present