This man's life: A family joke that took three generations to be funny
I visited my father's grave the other day with my laughing baby in her buggy. There was a certain irony to this. It might even have been a private joke between me and my dad. (Maybe this was the reason the baby was laughing. She got the joke?)
In one of the last conversations I had with him before he died in the hospice in Harold's Cross in 2009, I mumbled to him that I didn't think I'd ever have children.
I didn't think I was cut out to be a father, ever, or even a good one. Too selfish. Too wrapped up in myself. Too something or other.