chapter 2 abridged

well here it is the very abridged version of chapter 2. this is only a couple of pages of what will probably be the hardest chapter of the book to finish writing. i was tempted to keep going as once i started this chapter the memories came flooding back but i decided to take it easy and will write more later. smile emoticon DM

Chapter 2

Childhood

I would like to say childhood was wonderful and a breeze but that is simply not the case. It is a tribute to my mother’s courage and strength that she raised me with the right values and at no stage did I turn to drugs or crime despite rollercoaster ride that was “childhood”.

My father did all the things he needed to do as a Dad when I was a child but he forgot how to be a husband. To put it bluntly he became a violent alcoholic and took it all out on my mother. Towards the end he started to take it out on me as well as I transitioned to a teenager.

Mum used to say that after coming back from the Malayan Emergency he was never the same. Mum and dad were not together during that time but she sure as hell had to deal with the aftermath when they became a couple. Unfortunately the Australian defence forces have had a dismal record down through the years of looking after our returned servicemen.

The Malayan emergency like so many conflicts was a war in every way but name. By that I mean there were combatants fighting for a cause and those combatants were required to do terrible things including killing each other. As any soldier will tell you, once you start having to kill people you are participating in a war no matter what the politicians of the day decide to call it.

It was quite common when dad was in one of his drunken stupors for him to start speaking Malay. When that happened we knew that we were in for a rough time until the drinking stopped.

The worst day each year was Anzac Day. Down through the years it became more and more horrific to the point that I hated it. It has only been in my mid forties that I have been able to finally embrace it. The day would start early and as usual so would the drinking. By the time the sun was setting it was not unusual to have the police around or dad fighting with the next door neighbours. I really hated Anzac Day all those years.

Many times over the years we would simply not be able to go back home and mum, my sister Tracey and myself would end up in domestic violence shelters throughout Queensland, each time going progressively further north after using what must have been every available shelter in south east Queenslander.

As I grew older I started to feel underlying guilt that I wasn’t big enough to protect my mum however I was starting at the age of twelve to thirteen becoming braver when it came to talking back to my father. I think mum started to realise this when she decided to leave for good. She knew that dad would end up killing her and probably me as well. This may also have played a part in the extraordinarily close relationship we had. Despite a few hiccups in my later teenage years I loved my mum more than anything in the world and there is nothing that I would not have done for her. She was and always will be the first and most important love of my life and there isn't a day that goes by that I would give literally anything for her to still be here.

By fourteen years of age I was starting to grow and always playing football and cricket two years above my normal age group. I think mum could see a clash was coming and I was nowhere near big enough to take on my father despite my teenage hormones telling me otherwise. Early in 1983 mum decided enough was enough. With the help of close friends she packed and one day we came home from school and she was ready to get us out of there. After some time in another shelter in Brisbane she finally knew where to take us. Townsville.

Well as you can imagine at 14 years of age and leaving all my friends without saying goodbye including a girl that I was hoping would be my first girlfriend, I was less than impressed. How wrong I turned out to be. I can think of no better place to grow up than the Townsville of the early 1980’s. a beautiful tropical city with what was at the time probably the most appealing city frontage on the east coast of Australia. A town with all the amenities of a big city but with a beach frontage looking over a glass like body of water to a beautiful island that also doubled as a suburb. It was paradise.

At the end of 1983 mum and dad made one last attempt at reconciliation. In hindsight I don’t know what mum was thinking other than despite everything she did love my father. I guess there is also the classic problem of victims of abuse somehow trying to justify reconciliation with their abusers. It was a disaster after re enrolling in my old high school in Shailer Park in Brisbane and rejoining my team mates at my old cricket club, within a couple of weeks my father was back to his old tricks and after a stop at yet another shelter in Brisbane we headed back to Townsville.

My father managed to make contact again over the next couple of years and I even went down for a visit but he was to die of a massive heart attack in 1985 halfway through my final year in high school. I didn’t realise it at the time but I would spend many years looking for a father figure after he was gone.