The Story

Born in Airedale, in the sixties,
they called her "Tubby Lister".
She was a late bloomer,
stayed in her room, playing Wham.
Then BAM.
Benidorm, 1982.
She found you,
or you found her, who knows.
This is how it goes: the Yorkshire and Lancashire merger
took my future further.
Dexy and his Midnight Runners sang about Eileen,
and there was Helen, she was beautiful and seventeen.

So this began. You ran, and
you both ran after each other,
I don't ever doubt that you loved one another.
A little flat, a little puppy, a little baby: me.
Things got fairly serious, quite seriously.
You changed your life, and so did she,
that's just the way people thought things had to be.

Imagine if life had just split right there,
you had not stayed together,
you'd said it wasn't fair
to be tied down, to be stuck in that town,
where all you felt was some rope dragging you down.
Take the baby, raise it alone, Grandad said,
My god, can you imagine the life I'd have had instead?

I apparently emerged into this life,
With a little puppy to accompany me.
The first child, the one in pink,
in photos.
A tiny flat, I wish I could remember that.
For a long time I thought I was a mistake
but what a mistake to make.
Flashing pictures on the wall,
years later, made me see
that you loved me completely.

And then came the other little surprise,
Daniel with his curly hair and squinty eyes.
A stout little maniac with shovels for hands,
he ruined days out and kicked his shoes in the sand,
he jumped into pools and cracked up his skull,
if life were a china shop, he was the bull.

He was clever they said, a genius perhaps,
And growing up, despite the occasional lapse,
he remained the clever one.
And I resigned to be the one that never won.
She loved him more; I always knew.
There was just so much more of me that reminded her of you.
Until I left, went away, spread some miles.
She reached for me in the agony of a trial.

And our story has gone on a different trail,
Thinking twice now that I've lost you, I've flailed
and gasped and we've been through so much strife.
But you are the anchor of my life.
We are the same, and I am proud of that fact,
every now and then, though, I need to react
to feeling the way I do. And you can't talk to me,
in the way I need my dad, best friend, mentor, to be.

And then Helen thrashed out of this life.
Or slept through it.
Doesn't matter, she's not here to
talk to if I wanted to. Which I do.
I lost a limb, no not that, an organ.
A piece of me that can't be replaced,
I will never close my eyes and not
see her face. Every thing I do is laced
with the loss of her.

So we are now placed here. Later.
Your children are together. And trying. We need to try to
get over mum dying.
I know we are grown and we are old enough,
but is it still okay to say I am not that tough?

I still need that man.
Because I'm your child and you're my father. That will never change
No matter my sadly increasing age.
You still are that hero. That Rochdale imposter.
Don't let me lose you, now that I've lost her.