My Dad, Charles Joseph Wilson, died back in 2001 at age 85; but it’s true when people say that someone only really dies when you have forgotten them. I haven’t forgotten my Dad because he was a man of many colours and most importantly a man of his age. He is very much alive in my heart.
My Dad was born during the First World War and fought in the Pacific through the Second World War. My Dad was a Chief Petty Officer who did nursing and pathology duties in the Sick Bay on the now famous ship HMAS Sydney II that was lost in action with all hands off Western Australia in November 1941.
My Dad was on leave when his ship went down, but it haunted him throughout his life. He lost so many mates and memories. We would now say very knowledgably that he experienced “survivor guilt” for the rest of his life and he really struggled with this. I can remember family pilgrimages to the Australia War Memorial in Canberra and we would stand as a family in silence and gaze sadly at the “Sydney’s” broken life raft – the only piece left of a unforgettable tragedy. My Dad didn’t say much – but he didn’t have to, we all knew in some silent childish way that the life raft had a significance far greater than a mere bit of flotsam.
But this terrible experience was such a big part of who he was. AND if he been lost into the deep dark sea, then there wouldn’t have been me and my brothers and sisters. So here we are and his loss not only gave him strength and courage, but he also passed this onto his children and we learned some important life lessons from him.
He taught us how to keep going even in the darkest of times. He taught us how to stand up for ourselves and fight for justice. He taught us integrity and the meaning of the rewards of working hard, honestly and persistently.
The times I miss him most is when I am having significant troubles and difficulties – because it’s then that he would come roaring through like a lion; ready, willing and able to protect and help me from the injustices of life. That was when he was at his best. It’s from him that I learned how to be brave and stand up for what I believe to be right.
Most other times he just loved animals, made many, many silly jokes and sang in a lovely tenor voice to his favourite records. I think his great loss had made him solitary and wary of getting too close to friends which was sad.
However, my Dad was a self made man who was completely devoted to his family. I believe his loss enabled him to see and understand that the most important thing in life was relationships and he put his energy into his family. He didn’t always do it very well mind you! Like all human trauma his Trauma sometimes made him extremely hard to be with. But that’s not what I remember and isn’t that what matters?
So to all the Dad’s and especially to mine where ever he is now – have a lovely Father’s Day I wouldn’t be writing this if it wasn’t for you!
What an amazing man Fran thanks for the very moving post. We have a picture of your Dad’s ship HMAS Sydney up in our Rehab Unit here in the Bathurst Hospital it is was a poster done for Rememberance Day and it’s the photo of all the crew standing on the deck (maybe your Dad is in the picture). I often look at it and reflect on the enormity of the loss of life (645 soliders) on that one day 19/11/1941, all that lost potential, all those brave young faces.
My Grand Father returned from the initial landing at Gallipoli and my Father survived serving in Bomber Command in the second world war. I think sometimes how the world would be different now if either one had been killed in action.
Sometimes nearly loosing something can make you appreciate having it even more.
My Dad died back in 1994 age 73, so for all of you whos Dad’s are still alive just remember we all have a limited number of sunsets and seasons, so make the most of them.
Rich
thanks Rich My father’s generation was a complicated one! War is not good and I think it really changes people. For my dad it was profound and when I watch all that stuff about HMAS Sydney, but they always seem to forget the onshore “survivors” who lived on in tormented silence.
To Fran & Rich I am from a younger generation than you but I kind of relate to you in some ways. Surely,indeed I was moved by your sharing of your love and respect for your dad, Fran. He was a wonderful Dad! Stories of world wars remind me of my Grandpa (My dad’s father) whom I never get to see because he died when my dad was only 2. My Dad used to tell me stories of my him posing as a businessman (which he was) in a prison camp during the Japanese invasion of Manila during WW2. He walked the famous “Death March” in the history of the Philippines.