TRUTH . . . CAN BE PAINFUL
(continued)

Concurrently I was re-reading a splendid novel by Susan Howatch in which an Anglican Bishop was experiencing severe problems relating to his grown children. The cause was revealed not as their problems but his own reaction to them. Like me he was an ex-Army man and I identified with him immediately. He was inflicting his own problems, and his erroneous reading of their problems, on to his family. And so was I. If I was lonely, then they must be lonely too and need my constant attention.

Sitting up in bed with my book laid aside I found myself transported back in time to scenes I had completely forgotten. Times when I had felt desperately lonely in my earliest years. An only child, parents forty-five years old when they adopted me and with no understanding of my young world. They could not relate to me. There was virtually no real contact between us. 'You only eat and sleep here' my mother used to complain. What else was there to do? There were no games to play, no books to read, nothing to do but go out and rake the streets. No TV in those days. Mum was ill and inactive and Dad worked terribly long hours in a factory. It was a very lonely life.

Suddenly I began to weep - yes, at seventy-two years of age - as I actually felt the pain of loneliness surface from deep inside. Dad had been a boxer, but I was rather a weakling and quite a coward, so I got bullied at school. But all he could say was, 'The bigger they are the heavier they fall, son!' That didn't seem to work if you were running away, and I've always been a good runner!

Memory after memory came flooding back - I won't bore you with them all - and the tears kept flooding out. The hypnotherapist had been right about the tissues. As I cried I could see why I had clung to my grown children so much. I had thought it was because they needed me, but it was because I also needed them to stave off my loneliness.

I have so many friends, but I have always felt lonely without pin-pointing the problem. No wonder I left their 'We love you Maurice' cards on display for so long. I had to feel popular and would go to any length to make sure I didn't offend you with the possibility of losing your friendship.

My wife and I have a light-hearted agreement that she doesn't die first because I am completely inept and can hardly boil an egg. But now I realise that is not the true reason for the jocular arrangement. The fact is I don't want to be left alone. I'll be lonely again! I have probably developed this ineptitude to a fine art, for women often enjoy looking after a weak man. Many men hide behind their strengths, but I have hidden behind my weaknesses. We can be so adept at protecting ourselves from pain that we usually don't know we are doing it.

Well now I do know. The truth is out. Somehow I begin to know it will make a difference and take me a further step forward on my journey. I have tried to help my family across the road without them walking in the puddles, but they have eyes of their own. They are not my responsibility now. I can be here if they need me, as I know they are available for me; but we are equals now. We are all adults. I am sure a loosened grip will begin to reduce my anxiety level and increase their self-confidence. That can't be bad.

But it was a painful process and is obviously not the end of the road. Hopefully I will be changing until the last day of my life. As a family we have known quite a lot of pain - many people have - but I become increasingly sure that somehow it is all inter-mingling for good in the long run. Meanwhile the suffering in our lives and in the world at large is bellowing out the very opposite. I can only say that what I feel is a quiet conviction and not a blind faith. Something that has taken hold of me, not a doctrine that I am desperately trying to hang on to. I am grateful for such an assurance although inevitably it is assailed by doubts at times, but that is a healthy challenge.

Now another new day seems to be finally dawning and I am beginning to anticipate a more restful period for the concluding years of my life; no doubt it will involve still more learning, but never-the-less some respite and a time when I am not obsessed with the affairs of my family, just grateful to every one of them for the friendship and richness they continually add to my life.

© Maurice Smith 2004

//Continued