On Friday evening I was felled by a flu bug. I could feel glands
swelling up where I never knew I had glands. My stomach rebelled against food
and I’ve spent the best part of the last five days curled up on the settee with
Mabel the Cat watching daytime TV.
I’ve tried to explain to friends and family over the phone exactly
how I feel but each one has a different take on it.
“Get yourself up and moving and it’ll soon go away.” No it
won’t.
“I’ve had that too and it only lasts a few days.” I suspect
you haven’t had this bug, not exactly this bug, because this is my bug.
What I wanted to say was, “You don’t know how I feel,” but I
didn’t because that would sound rather pathetic. After all, it’s only the flu,
but it is true that no one can possibly know how anyone else feels in any given
situation, no matter how empathetic they are.
On Sunday morning, with this thought in my mind, I curled up
with Mable the cat and watched The Remembrance Day Parade on the TV. I watch it
every year. It makes me think of my Dad. He always went down to London and
marched alongside other members of AJEX, The Association of Jewish
Ex-Servicemen. He always made careful preparations for the trip, ensuring that
his poppy was smooth and perfect, that his coat was brushed and clean. He
always came home cold, tired and silent.
 |
| My Dad in the Middle East sometime during the 2nd World War |
In 1977, at the age of 55, he became seriously ill. We didn’t
yet know that it was Cancer and that it was too advanced to treat. This was the
first time since the end of the 2nd World War that my Dad did not go
to London for the Parade. He died the following week.
And so I watch the Remembrance Day Parade every year and think
about my Dad.
Was he traumatised at losing close friends in the war?
Or did he miss the camaraderie and organised life that
National Service had given him?
Did he see terrible things when he was posted somewhere in
the Middle East?
Or did he relish the new skills that came from being in the
REME, The Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers?
My Dad never talked about feelings. It was the way things
were in those days, and besides, I could never have known how he truly felt, however
hard I tried. The only feelings I can really know are my own...
...and now excuse me while I take two paracetamol and curl
up on the settee with Mabel the cat.
Have you ever longed to know how someone else is truly
feeling?
