27th October 2005

I remembered today –as I do from time to time – that I never really liked my Dad very much. It’s easy to forget the person he was, both the good and the bad, being swept away in feeling sorry for him. Ellie was being a child, she was happy and was laughing and giggling. Most of the other residents are oblivious to her being there, those that are aware are all incredibly pleased to see her and captivated by her. Even those that are virtually catatonic occasionally have a flicker of life when they see her. But my Dad shushes her. My Dad tells her to ‘simmer down’ like he did to me and my siblings 30 years and more previously. My Dad is embarrassed of the little noise my little daughter is making, in the midst of the tourettes of verbal emissions around us, my Dad says ‘Shush shush shush, there’s people trying to sleep, simmer down and don’t cause a fuss’. And I want to hit him. I want to scream and shout and tell Ellie to scream and shout. Anyone in there isn’t trying to sleep they are desperately trying to wake up from the living nightmare that their lives have become. But not my Dad.

Today was a bad day because I didn’t like him. Tomorrow will be better and I will be better and able to feel for him again. I will be nicer tomorrow. Tomorrow I will remember to be kind. I’m sorry Dad.