My memory isn’t that accurate about a bunch of stuff that happened as I was growing up. I think my parents split up when I was 6-7. I’m not completely clear why – I think I’ve been told but I’m content letting sleeping dogs lie. I think I remember the day my dad left. I think I grabbed his leg and asked him why he was leaving. I think it all made sense at the time.

Then, in retrospect, I disappeared into a massive chasm that I only escaped 4 years ago (from this week actually) when my wife gave birth to our first-born. Nobody made me disappear. I did that. I’ve written a bit about those years in Why some men are so lost and Dealing with depression at Christmas.

Anyway, like many of us, I’m not great at relationships. My wife’s the strong one. But, perhaps ironically, a lot of my thoughts and values about relationships and life were formed watching my mum have to support her two children by running one of the very early singles clubs in Australia – in the 1980s. Before RSVP. Back when parents at my school pointed me out to others as being the one with divorced parents – in ear shot. Back when you could have counted the number of divorced kids in a school on one hand – maybe two.

The years my mum ran her singles operation I both cherished and despised. I cherished them because they brought out the best in her – entrepreneurial spirit, bringing people together, coming up with party themes. I despised them because they brought strangers I didn’t trust into our lives and apartment, these strangers distracted my mum from us with nights of phone calls, and when she wasn’t doing the parties she was unhappy and stuck.

All of this is just life. I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing now without these experiences, so I thought I’d share with you what I took out of it. You may want to put on a bit of Black Box, C&C Music Factory or Tina Turner to get in the mood – these were the singles club anthems back then. Eek.

Nobody else will make it work for you

I published the first issue of my magazine when I was 21 (for more, read: 10 things about trying). I’m not sure I would have done this if I hadn’t watched a woman without a big network of support try and try again at creating a business to feed her family. In 6th grade, I used to buy packets of rugby league cards from the newsagent on my way to school, then mix and match the cards and re-sell them for a profit. It felt natural. I’m pretty sure this inclination came from watching my mum do her thing. And, from what I saw, a single mum in the 1980s had little choice but to fend for herself in only the most ingenious ways. Nobody was going to do it for her – and if you have a challenge or an idea, nobody else is going to do it for you either.

People value people who connect people

All of us have people in our lives who connect friends. They try to understand what we like and match us to people they think we’d like. They remove the risk from meeting new people; and we appreciate that they think about us. My mum built a business around this. Perhaps there’s a way you could improve your personal and professional life by doing more of this? I know I could.

People value confidence

A lot of these parties were hosted in our apartment. It wouldn’t have been more than 100sqm. Most of the parties happened while we were at dad’s – but enough happened for me to see mum in her prime… talking boisterously, circle of people around her, trying to connect people by introducing them and breaking the ice. Yes, she was louder than most – but people dug the fact that she was loud because they couldn’t be loud. They valued her confidence. It was part of the reason they paid to attend.

A good relationship is worth holding onto

My wife was born in South Korea. In South Korea, you try not to marry a child from a divorced family. Divorced kids divorce. Simple. I’ve held onto my wife since I was 19. Well, like I implied above, she held onto us more because she’s the strong one. But I have always had a personal value that’s committed to holding onto that special person. Unlike the Korean rule, this value is never simple. Anyway, it hit me one night – I may have been 12 or 13. I was cooking chicken schnitzel for a party in an open kitchen. I eaves-dropped, talked and watched. Even the loud people in the room looked uncomfortable – and why wouldnt they? Forty strangers were trying to work each other out; I’d suck at that. Watching that room that night and hearing some particularly awkward pick-up lines, I decided that I didn’t want to be part of the ‘meat market’ as my mum and her female friends called it. Ever since, the few relationships I’ve had were ‘long-term’ (well, as far as my age group at the time was concerned!). I really believe in this value but also realise it’s completely idealistic. The grass isn’t always greener.

Ladies, some men just won’t commit to you

I absorbed a lot of attitudes about men listening to my mum counsel, match-make and vet the men who came to her parties. There were ‘nice guys’ who’d make great art gallery escorts but not bedfellows. There were successful business types who were half-committed to other women – a wife they couldn’t divorce, for example. There were intelligent conversationalists – who weren’t much of a physical turn-on. And there were guys who would never commit and only came for sex. Well, not in our apartment… You know what I mean. I used to hear about guys cycling through these parties time and again – they’d attract a woman, something would happen, then they’d be back looking for someone else. Some were even after Australian residency. I have no idea how to pick these guys but they usually looked and acted the part but lowered expectations immediately – then disappeared. All I can say is a very general: keep an eye on it. Some people you just can’t change.

Self-obsession and relationships don’t mix

A lot of the people who came to these parties seemed really self-focused. I heard hundreds of hours of phone calls in these years, many of which sounded like ‘me me me me me’ but in adult tones. The people who seemed to me to be those ME people also seemed to be less likely to be in a relationship. Chicken or egg? Childhood generalisation? Is this a value you can even take on board from someone who writes a blog about his own experiences?

So, there you go: 7 things I learned from eaves-dropping on a middle-aged singles scene in the 1980s, all of which have led me to where I am today. Who would have thought it?

Photo courtesy Thinkstock.

If you enjoyed the read, please leave a comment. Feel free to follow me on Twitter or join in on Facebook

I was going through my website statistics today and saw that someone Google-ing ‘How to get a man to open up’ had landed on this site. They then spent 20 minutes trawling through the posts. Thing is, I’ve never explicitly written about the topic but thought it would be a challenging one to confront. So, here goes.

Could the real caveats please stand up?

Not all men are the same – and I’m not going to speak on Man’s behalf. Also, the things someone may want them to ‘open up’ about will vary in degrees of seriousness and cultural sensitivity. Finally, any answer to this topic will be layered in naive generalisations but since that’s something I’m apt at, I thought I’d give it a go. Finally finally, when I’m throwing those generalisations around, I’m assuming a female partner is trying to understand her male partner – and how to get him to open up. I needed to simplify things so that I could actually generate a point of view.

Your ‘open’ isn’t his ‘open’

Word on the academic street says that women speak on average 2-3 times more words each day than men (a ratio of something like 20,000 to 7,000 – Google it). So if you’re trying to get your man to open up and you’re expecting him to hit your own highs of verbage, it simply may not happen.

He will also probably not use your language. Read any self-respecting self-help book about expressing your emotions, and there will be instructions about changing your language from “You make me feel…” to “I feel… when you do that” – in other words, shape your ‘feedback’ by owning your emotions and not blaming the other person. The catch? This isn’t natural male language. If a guy talked like that in the playground at school… well, it wouldn’t go down well. And, as I wrote in Why some men are so lost, if it doesn’t work in the playground and that behaviour isn’t modeled by a male in the home, chances are that it simply won’t be ‘normal behaviour’.

So, you – as the inquisitor – may actually need to redefine your own thoughts about what ‘open’ means in order to get what you want (which may not be what he wants). Word.

Men solve stuff

OK. Cliche – and you’ve heard it before. The catch? It’s true. Guys don’t share a lot of stuff because they’re thinking about how to solve the situation. That’s how they spend their emotional energy when they’re not ‘getting it out of the system’ on a punching bag. Is it right? No. But it’s currently how it is.

Is your role really to mend him?

Another cliche – women naturally nurture and some women who are attracted to broken men see meaningful purpose in ‘mending’ them (ie making the man more like them). I mention this only to challenge any lady trying to help her man to think deeply about whether he actually needs her help or whether she’s being driven by her own self-satisfying instincts.

Maybe you’re not the right audience

Another thing to think about is whether he has to open up to you? If you truly believe he just needs to talk about his situation, find someone you think he’d talk to about it. Maybe you’re not that person. And, if you’re not, in a lot of instances it’s not personal, so don’t make it personal.

How do you know he hasn’t already?

A week before last Xmas, I was eating with my wife in a city foodcourt. The couple next to us had split up earlier in the day to get some shopping done. Their child quietly ate beside them. Then, it started…

She said: “What’s in the bag?”

Him (starting to mentally cower): “That CD I told you I wanted.”

Her: “The one I said I was going to buy you for Xmas?”

Him (dissolving into himself): “You never said that.”

Her (upping the ante): “But I hinted it.”

Him (reaching): “Yeah, but I’m not a mind-reader.”

The ‘mind-reader’ call is classic. Big fan of it. However, that conversation, for me, defines the gap between how men and women think, behave and communicate. The man wanted a simple thing for himself. His wife sort of told him she would buy it for him. He – on impulse (Man Impulse) – buys it in a music store he probably entered telling himself he’d look for a present for someone else but was sub-consciously there only to buy his little thing for himself. And buy it he did. Deep down he knew he was in trouble with his wife the moment he picked up the CD – he probably tucked the bag under the foodcourt chair, hoping she wouldn’t see it. The rest is an act – for both of them. She knew he’d buy it. He knew he’d buy it. She was going to find something to have a go at him on the day out anyway. He obliged. But, the man always has the backup retaliation of ‘I’m not a mind-reader’. His wife is angry because she thinks he simply didn’t listen – or pick up on however it was that she tried to hint.

OK. Long story. And I’m feeling sexist for how I read into it (sexist both ways, that is). But it’s typical of how men and women interact. One of the partners probably thinks they’ve already told the other what’s irking them. So when you’re trying to get him to ‘open up’ – maybe he already has and you didn’t notice.

You can’t nag it out of him

I’m not saying women nag. I am saying that men think they nag. And, if something’s on a guy’s mind, you cannot repeat yourself over and over again and think he will break. He’ll defy you. He may be thinking you sound like his mum right now – and he may not want that in the person he may open up to. All I’m saying is: be aware of when to prod and when to just let him be.

Men often don’t face each other in a D&M

Back in the day when we wore swords, word on the medieval streets was that if two men stood closely face-to-face and then got into an argument they couldn’t draw swords to cut each other to pieces. I read that somewhere but like many of my pillaged stories, I can’t remember where I got it from and then wonder if I simply made it up. Regardless, this sort of ‘closeness dynamic’ – not to mention what happens when you add in the ‘what are you looking at?’ teenage eye-contact fighting-words piece – has cultivated this weird male thing I’ve seen countless times. When guys talk about personal stuff, they often don’t look each other in the eyes nor do they even face each other. They’re in the front seats of cars, driving. They’re in a pub watching sport. They’re playing Xbox. They’re fishing. They’re doing something they can disappear back into quickly if their man-time gets awkward. And their conversation is minimalist – word by word, they test each other to see if now is an OK time to talk about something deep. A quick bit of referee abuse for the men at the pub watching the footy tells the guy who wants to talk that now is not the time.

Host your own inter-man-vention: I had an idea

Like all of the guys you know, I’ve been through some stuff and I’m wondering how someone could have got me to talk to them. I know that if someone cut me off quickly with their own answers or betrayed my confidence by telling other people about stuff then that was that: no more talking.

Then, I thought… well, if the dynamics are (for some) similar to what I outlined above… what if you as the inter-man-ventionist, played to the dynamics rather than fought them?

Introducing the woman-made inter-man-vention

Imagine this: man comes home. Partner has some sport on the television and a beer poured. She gives him a loving kiss then sits down. He changes clothes in the bedroom. No words said. He comes back to the living room. His partner is watching the sport. His favourite food is on the table. He can eat it with his hands and no serviette. He sits down on the couch – food in hand. Partner passes him a beer. No words said. She puts an arm around him – and watches his favourite sport with him. There’s a little note on the beer coaster saying that she’d like to talk when he’s ready but that it doesn’t have to be right now. No words said.

I’m sure, to many of you, I’m sounding like a chauvinist right now. I’m not trying to be. I’m trying to describe a situation in which one partner has tried to understand the natural rhythm of the other – in order to play to it to get him to talk. But, in understanding that dynamic, the probing partner knows that tonight may not be the night and is OK with that. There’s no judgement, no shaming, no nagging.

The point: if you want to host an inter-man-vention, why not set it up on your partner’s terms – not yours? They could be into bonzai and Dungeons & Dragons – not sport and beer – for all it matters. Just do it differently.

Tell me your story

I’ve been pretty apologetic through this post about the generalisations. A lot of men are going through some really serious stuff. They deserve more than generalisations. Hopefully, you can add some specific thoughts and tactics in the comments below. By the way, we made a book last year called The Perfect Gift for a Man. You can download it free. It may give you some more insight into how men are and how to get a man to open up.

If you enjoyed the read, please leave a comment. Feel free to follow me on Twitter

Guest post by Urthboy. It’s a pleasure to have Urthboy back to pen some thoughts. You can read his previous post about family stories here, and you can also listen to his track “Black Dog” below.

Click the link to play the song without leaving the page:
Urthboy – Black Dog

I don’t know much about Man Week but it sounds like a few beers: something to open men up.

The fact that we need a few beers, I mean, a Man Week raised a couple of questions. Is it a sign that we’re thinking forward, or at least stopping to assess where we’re at? Or is it something that gets in the Matthew Mitchams but turns off the Barry Halls, and therefore over before it began?

Most of us are far from perfect so I tend to agree with the positives behind Man Week, especially its modest but daunting goal of encouraging more dialogue from blokes. A lot of the characteristics defining men and women weren’t meant to flip 180 degrees – men are no closer to breast feeding; women no closer to reading on the toilet – but we live in different times now so it makes sense to move with them.

It used to be assumed that men inherited a default authority role (not necessarily deserved but always expected) and the strong man wouldn’t volunteer weaknesses like Samson and his hair. They were expected to lead us through incredible times: great depressions and world wars. These events and our management of them didn’t exist in isolation: they leaked into the lives of children, who picked up cues and tried to unscramble them into lessons to impart on their children. They had kids like me who assumed that everything would be explained when we got ID.

It’s helpful to understand why older generations didn’t talk, so we don’t feel bad for being more forthcoming. We’re all complex: compassion equals weakness only in simple minds.

Acknowledging my own fallibilities isn’t easy, but containing them doesn’t bypass my shortcomings either. Shiiiit, what self-respecting rapper can ever completely front on the philosophical directives of Kool G Rap! By the same token, that hip hop side worked with a turbulent upbringing to never properly shut me up, for better or worse.

Is the latter preferable to holding it in? Who can be certain? I tell myself: at least the leaky tap gives water.

I respect people who shy away from harsh realities cos who knows where they’re coming from? For me though, I prefer to know the truth of something, however unpleasant. I believe you need to deal with what’s in front of you otherwise the risk is you pack it away for later, to pass on. Sure, us men are tough (ahem), ruggedly handsome (umm..) and generally charming (Ok I’ll stop it now), but by and large we defy generalisations. Giving us a moment to think about who we are and what our role is, helps us and those around us. This is why Man Week is cool: everyone needs reminders.

I’ve always wanted this song to speak to fellas who’ve experienced depression or struggle from time to time. It doesn’t have any answers – it’s just a song called Black Dog. Mark has put it up here for you to listen and share. Hit me up on Twitter I’d be happy to send you an mp3 (@urthboy).

Click the link to play the song without leaving the page:
Urthboy – Black Dog

Photo courtesy wsilver.

Got thoughts on what Urthboy has to say?
Or even a thought about Man Week? Leave it below. Be honest.

Isn’t it interesting that the current Man Week campaign from Reachout to get young guys to open up is challenging guys to be tough enough to reveal themselves?

Isn’t this ‘man enough’ ideal the problem? So, isn’t using it to challenge guys to talk still keeping the issue in the very construct that’s doing them harm?

Ah, Man Week, how I love thee.

Some personal background

I’m really interested in manhood stuff. Hopefully, before I leave this life, I’ll have made an impact in the area. But I’m still working out how personal to get online about it all. Here’s why:

My parents split when I was young. I grew up mostly with a mum and a sister. Things often got hectic. I went to a good school but grew up in inner city Sydney – Glebe, when it was less pretty. I got shuffled a little bit between homes an hour away from each other. Few kids from my school lived in either area. I disappeared into sport, music and words (then, as a young adult, martial arts and a magazine). I was mostly transient with groups of mates – I’d hang with the Asian kids, kids from Glebe, the intelligent kids, hip hop kids, North Shore kids… but, mostly, I walked to my own beat.

My parents are good people. I’ve learnt since having kids that being an adult isn’t simple. But I felt hollow about 2 particular things a lot of the time as a young guy.

The first was a feeling of permanent vulnerability

Maybe, it’s something – as a teenager – I romanticised (I could have been listening to too much hip hop): being a latchkey kid in Glebe was something I felt so adult about at the time (mind you, I walked myself to school as a 5 year old) but I always had this underlying sense of vulnerability. I had no male backup. No brothers, no dad in the area, few lifelong mates nearby. Getting searched and threatened by local police was a badge of honour. Kids always carried weapons – if only a screwdriver. We enjoyed the randomness because it felt like we had control of not having control. Everything else, we had no say in. It was twisted.

The second thing I felt hollow about was trust

I didn’t trust anyone. I’m still learning to deal with this. I guess being moved around a bit between houses, having a lot of adults come in and out of your life when you’re young (parents’ new friends, partners, dates), you just… turn off. You stop giving new people attention because you think they won’t be there a week later. You get used to people not living up to their promises so you become cynical and don’t think anyone will hold true to their promises. You have this idea that every time your parent ends a new relationship, it’s your fault. Because your parents have kids. Sometimes, they even accidentally say this.

So what are some of the issues facing male-dom?

1. Being a man is intrinsically about physicality

Being a teenager and young man is almost entirely about physicality. Sport defines organised social hierarchy. Physical appearance determines what group you become part of, and whether someone thinks you’re worth picking a fight with. As a kid, I was pretty. But as soon as I was spending more time roaming the streets I had 2 ear-rings (early 90′s!), I shaved my head, I wore baggy pants, tracksuits, Air Max, bandanas, caps … all the corny stuff.

In all honesty, I did this to project someone tougher than I was because I felt so vulnerable and insecure. I see photos now and cringe. I wasn’t big but I needed to feel big.

2. Many men don’t know any better

I’ve had a lot of occasions in my life when I felt really alone. When I was 17, one of my ex-girlfriends passed away from cystic fibrosis. I felt so bad – not only because she was a wonderful person, but also because I couldn’t handle the idea of where her condition would inevitably lead when I was dating her. I nearly crashed the car on Birkenhead Bridge when I drove to the hospital to try to see her for the last time – I was so panicked. She wanted us to remember her as she was, so I didn’t get to apologise. I wish I had her strength.

Still, my mates pretty much just left me alone for two weeks. None came to the funeral because it was O-Week at their respective unis or they had lectures. No one wanted to talk to me about it. I think one of my parents asked me how the funeral was. I was just… out there… alone. So I wrote about it like I always did.

3. Testosterone and the Neanderthal

I think the real challenge facing Man Week and the conversation about young adults needs to take into account the fact that, biologically, men are bred for action, for violence, for dumb stuff. From what I’ve read (and I’m not pretending to be an expert), our brains are wired for the hunt.

Doing martial arts, we got to talk a bit about fight psychology and the way the brain works. Next time you see an altercation, you’ll probably notice a few phases. When there is distance between the people the talk is longer – full sentences (“What are you looking at? I said, what are you looking at?”). As they get closer, the chat becomes more monosyllabic (“What? Yeah? You!”), sight becomes more tunnel vision, the adrenaline dump happens and you either fight or flee. They say the best way to diffuse these situations is to ask a question back and give distance to the protagonist; and the best way to avoid them – advice I will definitely pass to my son – is to not hang out with morons in stupid places. Your ego heals faster than your body.

My point? Men need different coping mechanisms. It’s not just about getting them to talk. They need to understand that they are wired for certain behaviour and that there are things they can do about it. But they also shouldn’t feel ashamed of this fact.

4. It takes a real dad

I have two kids. I want to be a great dad. I’m at work too much. Sometimes, I’m distracted or half-asleep when I’m at home. I fear over-compensating for all of the above. But all I want for my kids is for them to find their own rhythm in life. I don’t know what a real dad is. But, I know that when my son kisses my daughter on the head randomly, we’re doing the right thing. I also wrestle with him and try to teach him about physicality and the boundaries that are OK to play within.

5. It also takes a village

This is something I truly believe our society has lost sight of: it takes a village to raise a child. Everyone’s so busy. Everyone’s looking out for themselves. There was research that I read in The Australian 2 weeks ago that said that today’s grandparents don’t want to mind their grandchildren. What’s going on? I’m wrestling with this one a bit… I’m not contributing enough to the ‘village’ for starters. Thing is, I don’t know where it is, either. We’re all over the place.

So…
Just to be clear, I don’t write about this stuff for sympathy or to put myself out there as this sensitive guy. I write about it hoping someone will relate to it – and not feel alone. I write about it hoping it will shed light on common themes I’ve come across and that my story is just an example of the many things that guys are trying to work out and deal with. It’s not a competition – I’ve met so many people who’ve had incredible battles in their lives. Maybe me writing some simple stuff will encourage them to write about their own adventures.

Other blogs to read for Man Week

• Becoming a man: dealing with personal problems by Julian Cole (@juliancole)
• Being a dad by Matt Moore (@innotecture)
• Balls and bravado by Gavin Heaton (@servantofchaos)
• Fathers are funny by Franksting (@franksting)
• Media and males by Media Hunter (@mediahunter)
• Dealing with bullying by Matt Hazel (@matthazel)
• A man in advertising by Stan Lee (@BrandDNA)
• My greatest life challenge by Joely Righteous (@joelyrighteous)
• Return to Colombia (about being adopted) by Jye Smith (@jyesmith)
• My dad by Age (@AgeC)
• Balls on the line by Zac Martin (@zacmartin)
• Being young and learning about masculinity by Joel Connolly (@joelconnolly)
• An understanding dad by Ross Raeburn (@rossraeburn)
• The hardest time of my life by Tim Beveridge (@timmwardion)
• Black dog days by Andy Ley (@andyley)
• On being a man and losing a loved one by Scott Drummond (@Scott_Drummond)
• Fighting the Stereotypical Aussie Male by Gavin Bollard (@gbollard)
• Some thoughts for my boys by Darryl King (@ireckon)
• Writing about talking by Urthboy (@urthboy)
• The Errol Flynn Skill Set by Alan Jones (@bigyahu)
• Man stuff by Ashley Ringrose (@100ftzombie)
• An Open Letter to Dad by Edward Harran (@edwardharran)
• Becoming a dad and more of a man by Trent Collins (@tcollins)
• Fathers by Andrew Blanda (@AndrewBlanda)
• Watching my brother struggle to find himself by Kara Lee (@karalee_)
• Second time lucky by David Phillips (@cafedave)
• Reachout’s Man Week blog

If you’re on Twitter sharing Man Week links, tag them with #manweek

Update: We compiled a book of many of these stories, The Perfect Gift for a Man. Download it!

Photo courtesy AJ.

What do you think?
Either below or on your own blog, please leave some of yourself behind.

Four years ago today I watched my granddad breathe his last breath. I was going through some tough times; this sunk me lower. But spending much of the last few days of his life with him was an incredibly beautiful experience, and something I wanted to share with you.

Pa
At 89, my pa had lived a long, fulfilling life. I won’t go into detail here but he spent much of his childhood in Newcastle, his dad worked on the railway lines, and he used to study by candle light. He had one of those curious, insatiable minds and was a staunch believer in education. It led him to the world stage.

It’s hard to fathom but he lived through 2 world wars and the Great Depression. And, despite there being almost 65 years between us, my interest in the internet paralleled his adolescent interest in hamster radios.

Anyway, he’d had his share of ill health – his wife of 65 years, my nan, played an amazing role in helping him get back on his feet every time. He always bounced back. So when he went into hospital in early March 2005, I thought he’d be out within a week.

His decision
Unfortunately, after a week, his organs started failing. I couldn’t believe it. I’d visited him a couple of times but he was asleep and looking weak so we didn’t get to talk much. It was strange seeing someone so powerful, incisive and large (he was over 6’2″ and a big guy) in this state.

Then one afternoon, he decided he’d had enough.

I managed to get back into the hospital where the family had gathered and we said our final farewells. I’ll never forget him saying goodbye to my nan: “I can’t do it anymore for you. I love you.”

They were going to put him into palliative care and he would see his life out unconscious.

Not running
I was in shell-shock and felt really panick-y.

Surely this couldn’t be it? This was 2005 – something could be done, right?

I was a mess and when the adrenaline kicked in – fight or flight – my body was wanting me to make an exit.

Now, I don’t know what happened but somehow a bit of strength rose inside me and I decided that I wanted to be with him as he breathed his last breath. I didn’t want him to be alone – my nan, aunty and uncle were keeping a vigil bedside throughout this time and other relatives came in too – so I spent 8-12 hours a day at the hospital for the last four days of his life.

Damien Rice
A few weeks before this, I’d seen the movie ‘Closer‘ and developed an unhealthy interest in Damien Rice, the man who made the movie’s soundtrack. One particular song became the moodpiece for the final four days of my granddad’s life. I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Unspoken intimacy
So, they knocked my pa out and he was to sleep until it all ended. We’d never really had a physical relationship but I decided to spend some of this time massaging his hands, his feet. I gave him the odd cuddle. I stroked his arm. I rested my head on his chest. Every now and then he stirred. I don’t know what goes on inside your mind when you’re out like that but hopefully he knew we were there.

Rainy reflection
It was dark and rainy the last few days of pa’s life. I wrote through much of them. Thoughts, poems, stuff I wanted to share with him. Then I read it to him. I found it hard to stick at one theme – part of me wanted to celebrate his life but then I realised I didn’t know a huge amount about it, part of me wanted to just tell him why I respected and loved him… it was hard to focus.

The rhythm of a death rattle
The death rattle is the worst thing about watching someone die. On the one hand, you know your loved one isn’t in pain (finally) and the nurses take good care of them; on the other, this death rattle sound they make… it’s tough. Pa was taking these huge breaths in – gulping the air – then would spend 5-10 seconds rattling them out – like a rattlesnake. Then the mega pause. I counted the gaps. I don’t know why. I think it made me feel in tune with him. Sometimes 20, sometimes 30 seconds. Then another breath.

Wake up and Goodbye
Even two days into his un-consciousness, I didn’t really understand what palliative care was. I looked it up online and read stories about people dieing who waited for loved ones to arrive from a long way away, for special dates… and then…

Well, I think it was day four and my nan, aunty and I were going to head down from pa’s room for a coffee. My nan said goodbye and left the room, then, with my aunt and me on different sides of the bed, my pa opened his eyes, raised his head, looked at both of us, breathed his last breath and sank back into his bed.

It broke our hearts but it was so amazing.

A rite of passage
I still shed a tear for my pa from time to time but when I think about it now, his passing and being with him was my rite of passage into manhood. Every time he breathed, I visualised myself breathing his soul into me. I felt stronger for being with him.

Apart from getting married and having kids, the last four days of my pa’s life were some of the most special days in my own life.

I know this is getting a little long and personal but there’s one more thing I wanted to share with you: the poem I read at my pa’s funeral. It’s a mish-mash of stuff I wrote over the last days of his life. After I read this at his funeral, an elderly gentleman came up to me crying and said, “I wish I could have spoken to my dad like that.” I’m sharing this with you in case it inspires you to.

A poem for pa
When they came for you
You stood strong.
I thought a few more minutes;
I wished a few more days;
I want a few more years.

The son of a Novacastrian train driver,
You studied by candlelight.
Perhaps the flicker reminded you
Of the stars
Towards which you aimed.

Well, you can be content.
You achieved more than most.
And we finally even brought them back together again.
It took your anniversary but we did it.

There was never anything wrong with imperfection
But the way you built for the family was perfect.
I just wish I was an adult sooner
To tell you that ­
Before our conversations
Became the one conversation.

You did well, pa.
You stretched the years,
Gained a good ten or fifteen.
I thought you’d grab a few more.
I really did.

I wanted my children to meet you
But it will have to be through me.
Through the parts of you instilled in me:
The strength, the love, the vision,
The steady hand that leads.

I never wrote your life story
But now I write your death.
Every breath you exhale
I inhale.
I want all the strength that’s left.

I’ve seen your eyes dart,
Your head turn slowly
In what I felt was acknowledgement.
Your hand reached out a couple of times
And I grabbed it when it did.

My hands are open
My heart is yours
I’ll stay as long as I can.

It’s the least I can do
For one of the few
Who’s watched me boy to man.

Love you, pa. Rest in peace.

Photo courtesy Matt & Heidi.