Bring on the Tears

I'm in too much pain to write a new piece so here's an old one. I just wish these random pain attacks would go away,or timetable themselves

Bring On The Tears ©

 By

Michael Casey

What makes you cry? I’ve just wiped a few tears away before I started talking to you. Today in 11^th Nov 2010, which is Remembrance day, it is also my dad’s Birthday, he would have been 89 today.

My dad was a man of peace who spent his life in the heat of the furnace,

The District Iron and Steel, Brasshouse Lane was where he worked for 40 years. He came over to England in 1944, he was a blacksmith. My father was a gentle man a kind and caring man, hew spoilt me he always got me an extra ice cream when he was on holiday, my many siblings called me Pet because of it.

If there was a film on tv and it was touching, my dad used to clear his throat and pretend he  was getting a cold, he move to the kitchen to dab away those tears. Or he’d put the kettle on. My dad was very very strong, after our mum had died he said she was strong, he said mum was as strong as a horse, the highest compliment a blacksmith can make. My mother died in her sleep next to her  husband of nearly 50year. My brother climbed into the bed and cradled her in his arms and tried CPR but she was already dead. Eight weeks later, the same brother heard a noise, it was our dad falling out of bed. My brother laid dad down on the bedroom floor flat and started CPR, he screamed to another brother, 999.

My brother saved our dad.

I wrote all of this down in Padre Pio and Me. The bottom line, I have a Shanghai wife and 2 bilingual daugthers all because of my brother and Padre Pio too.

When we look at an object we have an association too, an object is not just an object its an association too.  The electrical socket for my washing machine is there because my dad put it there, it doesn’t mean I cry every time I do the laundry, but it does mean I smile. I have an old barn chair with the back broken off, my mum  used to stand on it when she washed the outdoor windows, its been in my house nearly a quarter of a century. This reminds me of my mum. In fact I sat on that chair with the old typewriter balanced on a red stool when I wrote my comic novel

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I can even  remember when and where we bought that stool, it was 1973. Simple objects are full of memories and meaning. In Citizen Cane it was Rosebud the sledge  that meant so much when Cane died.

I had a pair of Rosary beads but I felt they were too gaudy, so I gave them to my mum. No doubt she used them well, she really knew how to pray. That may have been 15 to 20 years ago, now she’s gone, but my  brother said he had a spare set of Rosary bead would I like them. So he have them to me, he said they belonged to our mum, and yes they were the very same pair. So love and “objects” had performed a circle. My sister’s house has white lillies scattered all about her front garden, they only appeared after our mum had died. Mum had sneaked up to my sister’s house and planted them with Love. So after she was gone there appeared a reminder of her and her Love.

I have a speaker in the corner of my living room, my brother used to play Cream music on it via a reel to reel tape recorder. So that too has an association. I did in fact meet Eric Clapton when I was working in a 4star hotel, so that in a way was a circle.

There are many things and many lives that touch and connect with one another, such as the lolly pop lady when you do the school run, or the nice dog tied up outside a school waiting for the kids to  finish school.

There are grand gestures too, such as in My Big Fat Greek Wedding the dad buys his daughter a house, right next door to his own. All this is love in many many forms and I’ve just touched the surface. I can remember my mum crying her eyes out over a broken wooden coat hanger, why?

Because her mother had given it to her in 1944 when she had left Kerry for England. Many things Bring On The Tears, but they are tears of Love.

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I love news/politics as you know, so I've really sad to hear Charles Krauthammer has died. A Roman Senator amongst the Plebs