I returned to an Australia which seemed to have changed little during my four-year absence. In a way this was re-assuring. I had done and seen so much that was new and exciting that I was replete with adventuring. There had been, perhaps, a surfeit of travel, sexual experimentation and learning. Having emerged from a near-Paradise granted to few of us so early in life, it was time to pause for breath. Time to reflect on lessons learned and to formulate plans for the future.
My father, Gordon, was severely ill when I returned. At the airport to meet me, he was pale and diminished in spirit and stature. Death was at his shoulder. Thankfully, his partner, William, was not there to greet me. He had apparently sunk further and further into alcoholism and madness. I gathered he rarely left his bedroom now and was frequently psychotic. These two men - the monsters of my childhood - were now objects of my pity. They had only each other left to cling to. The caravan had moved on. The circus had left town. For so long a plaything for so many, even I was now gone except for occasional brief encounters with my father.
Gordon purchased a small house for me. It was close to the university campus and within walking distance of the city centre. He continued to pay me a generous allowance but it was not my intention to be a sponge forever. Although able to enrol as a Law undergraduate with no difficulty, the scholarship I'd gained upon matriculation was no longer available. My intention was to study ferociously and ensure that I achieved a scholarship based on my first-year Law results. This did eventually come to pass but, by then, Gordon was dead and my financial situation had changed drastically.
I turned twenty-one the day before Gordon flew out for what he knew would be his last visit to England. I accompanied him to the airport and we shook hands before he passed through to the international departures lounge. My last glimpse of him was a wave before he turned a corner and disappeared from view. I felt immediate regret that I had not found sufficient compassion in my heart to hug this man. True, he had never once hugged me throughout my life but we were both so much older now, and one of us - his son - could have been so much wiser too. I regretted my coolness at that farewell. I regret it to this day.
A few weeks later I was advised that my father had collapsed and died shortly after arriving at Colombo airport on his way back to Australia. I cannot clearly describe the welter of emotions that swamped me on hearing this news. It is hard to grieve for one who has hurt you so egregiously in life. You feel all the normal emotions like grief, shock and loss and yet, at the same time, your mind flutters disturbingly and prompts you to rejoice that a dragon has been slain. I know now that I was genuinely grief-stricken at the loss of the only family member I'd ever really known. And, oh, how greatly I regretted not having hugged him farewell.
Despite assistance from consular officials and the airline involved, it was fourteen days before Gordon's body returned to Australia. There was a brief funeral service and William, though in paroxysms of grief and bewilderment, was able to attend. My father was cremated and his ashes placed in a niche behind a plaque which simply bears his name and the dates of his birth and death. There is no "loving and much beloved father of ..." I thought this preferable to having lies or half-truths perpetuated on a bronze plaque. I have never returned to that place. I know I must do so one day. I want to speak to that enigmatic man at his resting place. I need to tell him I forgive him.
My father's will was simple. Everything was left to me. I considered this grossly unfair to William. I had no desire to be his landlord and I had no desire to evict him. Nor did I want him to endure penury. Against legal advice, I gifted to William the house and land where he'd lived with my father. I also settled a sum upon him which, together with his government pension, would ensure he had the means to survive long enough for alcohol to finally kill him. One meeting in a lawyers office to sign papers and I never saw William again. He may still be alive today, but I doubt it. To be honest - as long as his sufferings are no greater than those he inflicted upon me - I really don't care.
The first two years of my Law studies went well, but a vague restlessness began to overtake me. Having completed first year Law successfully, I was allowed to embark on a combined Arts/Law Degree course with my Arts major being Psychology. I thoroughly enjoyed those aspects of Law that I think of as having both heart and personality - Criminal Law, Family Law, Negligence (or Torts) and even Constitutional Law were of appeal to me. Contracts and Property Law appealed to me far less. Knowing that I would inevitably end up as a corporate lawyer, knowing that the world can only support so many Perry Masons, knowing how little profit would come from practising Family Law - all this I found a bit dispiriting. I wanted to work with people, engage with them, and have some degree of a personal relationship with them. I was not excited about a lifetime spent perusing and drawing up contracts or endlessly engaged in conveyancing. Having no financial insecurities only added to the feeling that I was leading a half-life.
At the start of my third year, I sought and obtained permission to defer further studies for a while. Much as I liked my home city, I put as much distance between myself and Melbourne as one can while still remaining in the same country. I left my then-girlfriend with only the vaguest hint as to when - if ever - I would return. I began working in the remote Kimberley region of Western Australia. Some of my adventures there have already been touched upon in previous blogs about "The Activities Guy". I enjoyed my time in this remote wilderness and, once again, I fell in love with a landscape and a hitherto alien way of life. Eventually, having lived an exclusively heterosexual lifestyle since returning from Spain, I had occasional encounters with guys, partly out of natural inclination and partly because sexual choices are few in an area where scarcely any single women lived at that time. If you're young and filled with sexual urges, you eventually weary of even your trusty right hand. You need to hold someone, kiss someone, even fuck someone. Well, that's how I felt. And that's what I did, especially with my good friend the Activities Guy.
Having once again indulged my passion for adventure and excitement, I returned to university with batteries re-charged and filled with enthusiasm to graduate and commence a career. This came to pass and I found myself in the continuous loop of a successful law practice. Big bucks and lots of travel - indeed too much travel - but somehow, in all that craziness, there was sufficient time and opportunity to meet and marry the most wonderful woman in the world. Five beautiful children arrived over a seventeen year period and then, almost three years later, my wife died. We still mourn her loss daily.
Single parenthood meant an end to the corporate whirl. For every grief perhaps there comes a joy to restore meaning to one's life. I have never missed my former career for even a single moment, and I love being a father. I also thank the fates for having led me to study Psychology as well as Law. Both have come in very useful over time and I enjoy my work as a psychologist/counsellor; firstly, it enables me to set my own caseload and work out of home but, secondly, it combines two things I feel very deeply about - compassion and justice.
Many fragments remain for future consideration but now, in essence, I have covered all my "missing years". I doubt I will ever write much about my twenty years of marriage to Jennifer. It was a perfect thing in an often imperfect world and I am content to carry it within my heart and mind only. No words are needed.
Over time I have drifted in and out of any orthodox belief in God, just as I have drifted in and out of an orthodox lifestyle. If He does indeed exist, I might rail against the injustice of allowing both my childhood and my beloved wife to be taken from me. On balance, however, there can be no railing against God or justice, for they have delivered to me a rich life's tapestry filled with the colour of children's laughter and love; the beauty and splendour of far-flung landscapes and the people who live there; and, above all, the strength to overcome obstacles and the willingness to enthusiastically embrace each new tomorrow.
My father, Gordon, was severely ill when I returned. At the airport to meet me, he was pale and diminished in spirit and stature. Death was at his shoulder. Thankfully, his partner, William, was not there to greet me. He had apparently sunk further and further into alcoholism and madness. I gathered he rarely left his bedroom now and was frequently psychotic. These two men - the monsters of my childhood - were now objects of my pity. They had only each other left to cling to. The caravan had moved on. The circus had left town. For so long a plaything for so many, even I was now gone except for occasional brief encounters with my father.
Gordon purchased a small house for me. It was close to the university campus and within walking distance of the city centre. He continued to pay me a generous allowance but it was not my intention to be a sponge forever. Although able to enrol as a Law undergraduate with no difficulty, the scholarship I'd gained upon matriculation was no longer available. My intention was to study ferociously and ensure that I achieved a scholarship based on my first-year Law results. This did eventually come to pass but, by then, Gordon was dead and my financial situation had changed drastically.
I turned twenty-one the day before Gordon flew out for what he knew would be his last visit to England. I accompanied him to the airport and we shook hands before he passed through to the international departures lounge. My last glimpse of him was a wave before he turned a corner and disappeared from view. I felt immediate regret that I had not found sufficient compassion in my heart to hug this man. True, he had never once hugged me throughout my life but we were both so much older now, and one of us - his son - could have been so much wiser too. I regretted my coolness at that farewell. I regret it to this day.
A few weeks later I was advised that my father had collapsed and died shortly after arriving at Colombo airport on his way back to Australia. I cannot clearly describe the welter of emotions that swamped me on hearing this news. It is hard to grieve for one who has hurt you so egregiously in life. You feel all the normal emotions like grief, shock and loss and yet, at the same time, your mind flutters disturbingly and prompts you to rejoice that a dragon has been slain. I know now that I was genuinely grief-stricken at the loss of the only family member I'd ever really known. And, oh, how greatly I regretted not having hugged him farewell.
Despite assistance from consular officials and the airline involved, it was fourteen days before Gordon's body returned to Australia. There was a brief funeral service and William, though in paroxysms of grief and bewilderment, was able to attend. My father was cremated and his ashes placed in a niche behind a plaque which simply bears his name and the dates of his birth and death. There is no "loving and much beloved father of ..." I thought this preferable to having lies or half-truths perpetuated on a bronze plaque. I have never returned to that place. I know I must do so one day. I want to speak to that enigmatic man at his resting place. I need to tell him I forgive him.
My father's will was simple. Everything was left to me. I considered this grossly unfair to William. I had no desire to be his landlord and I had no desire to evict him. Nor did I want him to endure penury. Against legal advice, I gifted to William the house and land where he'd lived with my father. I also settled a sum upon him which, together with his government pension, would ensure he had the means to survive long enough for alcohol to finally kill him. One meeting in a lawyers office to sign papers and I never saw William again. He may still be alive today, but I doubt it. To be honest - as long as his sufferings are no greater than those he inflicted upon me - I really don't care.
The first two years of my Law studies went well, but a vague restlessness began to overtake me. Having completed first year Law successfully, I was allowed to embark on a combined Arts/Law Degree course with my Arts major being Psychology. I thoroughly enjoyed those aspects of Law that I think of as having both heart and personality - Criminal Law, Family Law, Negligence (or Torts) and even Constitutional Law were of appeal to me. Contracts and Property Law appealed to me far less. Knowing that I would inevitably end up as a corporate lawyer, knowing that the world can only support so many Perry Masons, knowing how little profit would come from practising Family Law - all this I found a bit dispiriting. I wanted to work with people, engage with them, and have some degree of a personal relationship with them. I was not excited about a lifetime spent perusing and drawing up contracts or endlessly engaged in conveyancing. Having no financial insecurities only added to the feeling that I was leading a half-life.
At the start of my third year, I sought and obtained permission to defer further studies for a while. Much as I liked my home city, I put as much distance between myself and Melbourne as one can while still remaining in the same country. I left my then-girlfriend with only the vaguest hint as to when - if ever - I would return. I began working in the remote Kimberley region of Western Australia. Some of my adventures there have already been touched upon in previous blogs about "The Activities Guy". I enjoyed my time in this remote wilderness and, once again, I fell in love with a landscape and a hitherto alien way of life. Eventually, having lived an exclusively heterosexual lifestyle since returning from Spain, I had occasional encounters with guys, partly out of natural inclination and partly because sexual choices are few in an area where scarcely any single women lived at that time. If you're young and filled with sexual urges, you eventually weary of even your trusty right hand. You need to hold someone, kiss someone, even fuck someone. Well, that's how I felt. And that's what I did, especially with my good friend the Activities Guy.
Having once again indulged my passion for adventure and excitement, I returned to university with batteries re-charged and filled with enthusiasm to graduate and commence a career. This came to pass and I found myself in the continuous loop of a successful law practice. Big bucks and lots of travel - indeed too much travel - but somehow, in all that craziness, there was sufficient time and opportunity to meet and marry the most wonderful woman in the world. Five beautiful children arrived over a seventeen year period and then, almost three years later, my wife died. We still mourn her loss daily.
Single parenthood meant an end to the corporate whirl. For every grief perhaps there comes a joy to restore meaning to one's life. I have never missed my former career for even a single moment, and I love being a father. I also thank the fates for having led me to study Psychology as well as Law. Both have come in very useful over time and I enjoy my work as a psychologist/counsellor; firstly, it enables me to set my own caseload and work out of home but, secondly, it combines two things I feel very deeply about - compassion and justice.
Many fragments remain for future consideration but now, in essence, I have covered all my "missing years". I doubt I will ever write much about my twenty years of marriage to Jennifer. It was a perfect thing in an often imperfect world and I am content to carry it within my heart and mind only. No words are needed.
Over time I have drifted in and out of any orthodox belief in God, just as I have drifted in and out of an orthodox lifestyle. If He does indeed exist, I might rail against the injustice of allowing both my childhood and my beloved wife to be taken from me. On balance, however, there can be no railing against God or justice, for they have delivered to me a rich life's tapestry filled with the colour of children's laughter and love; the beauty and splendour of far-flung landscapes and the people who live there; and, above all, the strength to overcome obstacles and the willingness to enthusiastically embrace each new tomorrow.
