105 years ago

Today would have been my Father’s 105th birthday! He was born 1907, but died, sadly enough, when he was only fifty, and I was two.

The other day, when we went to Oromocto, to see our friends, I shot this outside the coffee shop. It looked a little unusual, totally stripped of everything — otherwise I was never drawn to motorcycles. Perhaps because my Father died on one.

Growing up without a father probably defined me as a person … perhaps more than I’m aware of, but life takes its turns and we’ll never know what it would have been like otherwise.

I’ve always felt a great sadness though, when thinking about that I never knew him. I only know what other people have told me — which honestly isn’t all that much! I look at the photo I have and see my own eyes … it feels a little strange, still … after all these years.

When I was, perhaps, close to forty, I asked my Mum how long time she was off work when my Father’d died. She stopped to think, as it was such a long time ago, and said ‘maybe three, four days?!’ ‘Wow’, I said … ‘did that really give you enough time to deal with the mourning properly?” She looked at me as if I came from a different planet. Discussing inner feelings wasn’t really her kettle of fish. Hence, perhaps, I know so little. There are times when I feel I didn’t really know her either.

On a brighter note … on the same trip, we also saw this beauty:

ย It’s almost midnight. I usually write these blog posts in the morning. Slept a little bit longer than usual this morning — woke up 08:02. Could have slept even longer but as the clock radio showed my date of birth, I thought perhaps that was a sign I should get out of bed! ๐Ÿ™‚

16 thoughts on “105 years ago

  1. roughseasinthemed

    That must have been bizarre. I don’t remember my grandfathers, one died when I was 18 months old and I can’t even remember whether the other died before I was born.

    And yet your tale, although so very sad, is similar to that of my partner’s whose mother left the father when they were all tiny, so he never knew him. His mother wouldn’t talk about him either. When he was 21 or so, he went to visit him with his other brother. He’d remarried. He was pleasant enough but had never got in touch and was clearly not interested in the boys. He died the following year. Both sad tales, for you the not knowing must be the hardest, something that won’t change. For my partner, it was the lack of interest – that didn’t change either.

    I’m not sure we ever know our parents though.

    1. reb

      All my grandparents died before I was born.

      You know … I often thought of that, when I got old enough to reason; ‘how it would have been different had I not known that he was dead — if he’d been alive, living elsewhere’.

  2. John

    The doe gave a nice pose for you. I was adopted but can identify with you as I never had the chance to meet dad, he died aged 40. Mom was in California and a nut case, talked to her but never met her in person. It certainly tosses you, leaving you to wonder many things about yourself and biological family. The bike is indeed a stripper, love the exhaust system, would love to hear it running, with that super short pipe length.

    1. reb

      Yeah, the bike was colourful, and so were the guys around it ๐Ÿ˜‰
      And yes, I think these things shapes us as individuals..

  3. jgp60

    Loved the photo of the deer! I’m sorry you never knew your Dad, and your Mum doesn’t talk about him – must be hard. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ My step kids lost their Mum to cancer when they were 8 & 10 – they’re now in their mid-20’s. There are lots of photos of her in the family albums and we go to visit her grave now & then. She also lost her Mum when she was young, her Dad remarried and all her Mum’s things were removed from the house – they weren’t allowed to talk about her – very sad!

    1. reb

      That must have been really difficult for them, to lose their mum at that tender age. Not that any age is any better, but still… I do wish we’d talked more though.

      Thank you so much for stopping by, and your kind comment.

  4. adinparadise

    How sad to have never known your Dad. I just can’t imagine what that must be like. Motorbikes have never held any appeal for me, and thankfully also not for my children. Lovely deer pic.

  5. magsx2

    It must of been frustrating for you to want to know about your Dad but nobody would actually talk about him.
    I agree, it is a bit of a strange motorbike, but I love the way it is painted, looks good. ๐Ÿ™‚
    Great photos.

    1. reb

      Sometimes it gets that way about dead people … they tend to be glorified, so I didn’t feel that I got any real grip of the ‘real’ person, so to speak.

  6. barb19

    It’s sad that you never got a chance to know your dad, and it doesn’t help that your mum doesn’t talk about him. My hubby never knew his dad either – he died two months before the hub was born.
    I was 29 before I met my own dad (long and sad story), but I only had him for 14 years before he died – but I am thankful for those very special years with him; I am so much like him in looks and ways, and my curiosity about him was satisfied.
    Love the deer pic – such a poser!

    1. reb

      Thank you, Barb ๐Ÿ™‚
      That was so good … that you got fourteen years! I think I would have found the same thing … so many similiarities..

    1. reb

      Yes, it was sad. Somehow, I can be thankful that I was only two, and didn’t have to really live the trauma, like my brother how was twelve.

  7. Juliana

    I lost both my grandmothers before I was 4 yrs. old. I was the oldest on my mother’s side and I was the apple of my grandparents eye. Then she died and then my brother was born. He was my mom’s whole world. I wonder how different my life would have been if even one grandmother had lived and given me a soft place to land. Guess we will never know. Same as with your father.

    1. reb

      Yes, all these things that we can’t do anything about … they sort of tickles ones imagination … ยซwhat would it have been like … who would I have been …?ยป Even though we have the DNA we have when we’re born, the environment we grow up in certainly affect our personalities.


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