I AM FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER
A Eulogy for my Dad, Tony Ward 1937-2013.
I started writing this in July 2012, 9 months after dad was diagnosed with cancer, but 16 months before he died. Writing it was part of my grieving process and a way to understand my feelings during the gradual loss of my father.
Dad once called me his frankenstein’s monster, now this sounds like a hard and possibly cruel way to refer to your one and only son, but I never took it as an insult. In fact, I think it tells us about one of the most important traits of how he approached fatherhood; his ultimate aim was to create something he wasn’t. In this simple approach, he did something strong, brave and good. With two children, Vicky and myself, he achieved his goal — we became something completely other to him.
At times he would say that we spoke a different language; our words, ideas and cultural references made him feel like he’d been parachuted into a strange land.. We presented to him, on almost a weekly basis, a challenge to his values and positions on the world. We wouldn’t let him rest with views that were dubious in their ethical and political position, we argued him into submission and frustration. In short, we were massive pains in the arse.
I would like to celebrate this. Without my dad, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I wouldn’t be armed with the passion and drive to argue about the world. In his quite, provocative charm, Dad managed to create his frankensteins. In his desire to make me different to him, he gave me the ultimate prize — a voice of my own.
In a world, where individuals find it hard to take control and direct their lives, my parents gave Vicky and myself the most important powers, that of: autonomy, self determination and independence.
Now, I know my dad never read Mary Shelley. I know that his understanding of Frankenstein was more Boris Karloff than a deep literary analysis. But I think it’s important to recognise that Dr Frankenstein always loved his creation, he just couldn’t fully understand or control it. And like the monster, I was let loose on the world, to wreak havoc!
My favourite story about how dad pushed and extended my life experiences, experiences that he would never enjoy or understand, was with something very close to my heart — food. As a child, I was aware that there were no barriers to me experiencing food. No price too high, or food to strange, my dad would order it off the menu. It was only as an adult did I fully realise that he never partook. The frogs legs, the snails, the chickens feet all appeared at the table for his family to try, without a morsel touching his lips. He relished our enjoyment, he loved introducing me to things that he would never like himself. He sat back, like a voyeuristic gourmet, watching his family experiencing wonderful things. Hedonistic at times, the drive to see pleasure from others demonstrated my dad’s underlying generosity.
Although today, by his own standards, should be spent enjoying good food, great conversation and copious amounts of alcohol. I think I need to reflect on the last two years and the gradual loss, the mental and physical decline, of dad. Dementia is without doubt one of the cruelest diseases to take a person. Those that loved dad have had to witness a slow and miserable loss of his life blood. We have been mourning the man we loved for a while now. But this sad time is over, what we have to hold onto the memories of the good times, the memories of a man who would desperately hold onto his holidays, always provoked deep conversations and ultimately strived to have a good time.
Over the last two years, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about the world without Tony Ward. However, by the time I was ready to say important things to dad, by the time it was necessary for him to say important things to me, he’d lost his grip on reality. This means I feel that I didn’t get chance to say goodbye, With the overwhelming emotional awkwardness that stops people discussing their feelings towards the people they love, the moment slipped by without me realising it.
But this is okay, it was unlikely, even if he was of sound mind that he’d have said anything. He struggled to express his emotions in that way. He was a man of ‘that generation’ — hard and stoic — and I’ve been aware of this for years. It first struck me, as a teenager, when I’d give him a kiss on the top of his head as he dropped me off at the train station to go to school. I could sense his physical discomfort, but instead of being put off, his monster continued, relishing and forcing him to get used to a big man kissing him in public. The last time I saw dad, on the day he died, I kissed his head.
My dad taught me many things in life: how to drink and stay in control, how to never take a day off work due to a hangover, how to be tough, how to fight for what you believe in, how to act with charm and generosity to those around you, how to be the first (and often last) at the bar. He taught me, indirectly maybe, how important my friends and family are to me.
He also taught me how to tell stories, how to make stuff up… However lacking in creativity the industrial flooring industry was, I owe some of my love for stories and literature to dad. One of my most vivid memories of childhood was listening to my dad lie to me about his previous professions. He’d been a doctor, a policeman, a fireman, a lawyer.. All these things I believed with all my heart. In his own way I think my dad instilled in me a deep knowledge that I could be anything… The world was my oyster… Even if I had to make it up!
He certainly didn’t teach me how to show my emotions, he didn’t teach me to tell those that I love, that I love them. But luckily, I had mum for that. Today, on this terribly sad day, I’d like to thank Tony and Kathy for being brilliant parents and for making me who I am today. All of the people my sister and I help, whether through education or social care, owes something to Tony and Kathy. I hope I will continue to do good, because this good owes everything to my parents. Frankensteins Monster would like to thank Dr Frankenstein, I will miss him and I will always love him.
But to end this eulogy on lighter note, and an appropriate end, i’d like to recall one of my dad’s favourite sayings: “when in shit, drink champagne”… today is shit. Let’s go drink champagne for Tony Ward.
