I will always remember the sound of your boisterous laugh, it startled me as a child but I would be comforted by the broad smile that followed. I recall this being the reaction to many of the novelty gifts my mother gave you over the years, homemade gifts of little monetary value but the saccharine stitches displaying the years spent together rendered them priceless. When I think of my childhood I think of 7 Lunt Avenue, Connie sat on her armchair, the natural backlight piercing though the window, dancing in her hair. I think of the countless small animals that kept my wondering eyes occupied and entertained as she watched countdown. I think of you sat beside Connie, telling jokes and asking me about my hobbies, and insisting that you always gave me and my brother a chocolate bar or two regardless of my mother’s protests. When I think of my childhood, I hear you telling Ben to sing, howling along to his bellowing tune which would then be rewarded by a belly rub as he slobbered from his overspilt gums. I hear the strumming of your guitar, the Beatles covers that you sang for us with a quivering western twang. Though these memories may be decades old, they are engraved into my hearts recognition of you. The passing years loosened the grip on your six string, silvered your once singsong voice but the winning smile remained. After I said my last goodbye at your bedside, the images of a frail and ailing you began to fade, replaced by your cheeky grin sat opposite me as you handed me an oversized chocolate cake on a visit to the docks, your open arms greeting me and my brother in the doorway, and you sat in front of a large plate of roast dinner with a party hat pulled from a Christmas cracker set proudly upon your head. This is what I will describe when my children ask about the mystery man who’s proud face decorates my mother’s walls. You were never one for soppy and cloy gestures, so I guess for now I’ll see you on the flip side Johnny Wok, I love you 🖤
Eavan Seasman
24/09/2020
