A dad’s life story for his beloved Son, Oscar.
Oscar aged four with his new mama and papa
My Dad taught me well, encouraged me to be the best I could be. He never told me how to live my married life. He lived his life, and let me watch. Nancy and me, taught Oscar well, and encouraged our son to be the best he could be. He starts his married life tomorrow.
David A Hughes – Oscar’s very proud Dad
THE ATTIC IN MY MIND
There’s an attic up there in my mind where I store the memories, both bitter and sweet. I visit them now and again and examine them just to be sure I can still feel inside as I always have. As I trace the the moments, with my mind, I wonder how my life would have been, if I had chosen a different path than the one, I took back then.
The bitter memories of being born with a congenital condition that was to haunt me in my teenage years, as I reluctantly competed with the handsome guys, to find a girlfriend. The awkwardness of having a squeaky voice and being teased about that by fellow apprentices at my printing college in Liverpool, and the bitter memories when being beaten up by a local ruffian and not being strong enough to defend myself.
I was different and it showed.
At 19 I arrived home from work one evening and my sister had a friend with her. Introducing me, my sister said, ‘this is Pamela she’s a school friend and she wanted to meet you’’, She wanted to meet me, I said; Why?
Pamela told me, it wasn’t how I looked, it was how I behaved and what I said. I was romantic she said, and she liked my singing voice, especially on the phone at night when I sang to her. She said it made her feel special, and that no one else she’d met had made her feel that way. A few months into our courtship she met another guy who made her feel more special, and our courtship ended.
With what I’d learned my confidence started to grow.
One Saturday morning I was walking to the local shop on an errand for my mum, and met Janet, a mate’s friend who had someone with her who was ‘drop dead’ gorgeous. I stopped to chat and to my surprise, Janet said “Oh, Hi David, this is Jenni, she’s my cousin, and I was telling her about you.” I hope you said nice things, I thought, when Jenni smiled a beaming smile and said, “I’m staying with my cousin for a week. It was my lucky day. Jenni and I were together for five years. We were engaged and planning to Marry. It ended a little acrimoniously. I was reckless, and lacked a little empathy then, and along with my stupidity, we broke up, and I ran away, to a new semi-skilled job, working for a telecommunication’s company, based in Kent, UK, to get away from the pain, salve my aching heart, travel throughout Britain, and start a whole new life.
Six months of sorrow
For the next six months I was travelling to many cities and towns installing PABX’s and Channel Carrier equipment to help build the telecommunications network around Britain, ruminating over what may have been, and only getting home to my parents place every couple of weeks.
That six months was a mixture of pure joy and bittersweet moments, as I realised that the love life I had had, fractured as it was, would never mend, and it didn’t!
We both moved on.
Jenni married a policeman she met. I was happy for her, as she’d endured much, and I wished her the very best. As for me, after a couple of years of travelling Britain, working, meeting lots of telephonists and other lovely ladies, having two short and broken relationships, finally met the love of my life in a bar in Edinburgh, Scotland, where we had a whirlwind romance of seven months and married in June 1972, migrated to Australia, adopted a beautiful our child and living an idyllic life, until the heartache of losing my beautiful Nancy, to Cancer, on 29th August 2015.
An Idyllic Life with my Soulmate and Oscars gorgeous Mum
Married for 43 years, living, and loving Nancy was a joyous time. We complemented each other, she with her lust for life and generous soul, and me with my career ambitions, dreams to be the perfect husband and give her all she desired.
We both worked hard, saved, and bought houses, decorated them with precious things and enjoyed each other’s company always, Nancy was more introvert than me, though she enjoyed a good joke, a glass of wine and shopping. She liked to be at home a lot and was a wonderful cook who made the best chips I’ve ever tasted. My Big sister who visited us here twice in Australia, still talks about them. Nancy also was brilliant with crafts and her hobbies provided us with all the creature comforts of the artisan, as she knitted, sewed, planned and interior designed our homes.
Two of her best traits were empathy and compassion for others. She sought justice for the down-trodden, voiced her opinions about political ineptitude, and was never afraid to stand against those she believed to be taking instead of giving. In 1980 she was interviewed and achieved a role as cottage parent in a family group home, looking after six young wards of the state. As a childless couple who had longed to have children of our own, this was to be a wonderful time for both of us.
We lived with the children, and looked after their physical, spiritual, educational, and psychological needs daily, and Nancy was a fabulous carer to each of them. She had realised he true vocation. I worked for Telecom Australia at the time and was delighted to leave and come home to house full of kids and love, each day.
Longing for children of our own
From 1980 and during the 11 years as cottage parents we had tried unsuccessfully to have children of our own, and though we loved the kids we lived with, they weren’t ours, and desperately in 1984 we turned to IVF for three years without success. I still remember those early mornings, the temperature charts, and the drives to Melbourne, hoping against hope that this day would be the day, only to return home bitterly disappointed. Those were three very long years, and still believing we hadn’t reached the stage to give up, we explored child adoption.
Too old to adopt in Australia.
Our ages made us ineligible to adopt in Australia for I was 39 and Nancy 33, though we were told that Overseas adoption was possible at our respective ages.
Overseas adoption is a difficult road.
Knowing that it was possible we applied in 1985 to Community Services Victoria (CSV) to join the overseas adoption program. It was a long road with many, many hurdles, and many disappointments along the process. Endless days of attending meetings with aspiring parents where the social workers-at the time- told of the difficulties of raising children from poor and culturally different countries. There were multitudes of reasons given why we should not continue. Then there were the videos of young children in China and India and Romania, who lived in difficult circumstance in private and state-run orphanages, and were malnourished, disabled, and traumatised.
It was as if we were being discouraged, by our state services to give up. We however remained resolute, didn’t give up and stayed in the process. We asked about adoptions from Central America., and were told there were no programs in these countries nor were any planned,
We were aware that other Countries like UK, Canada, and America had government to government programs with Mexico, Guatemala, and El Salvador, and we researched all of these.
Nancy and I were placed with a group of five other couples who also knew what we knew about such programs, and wanted to adopt from Central America and we worked tirelessly with the department and a couple of adoption agencies to develop a program between CSV and Eliza Martinez state run orphanage in Guatemala City
I was asked to be the spokesperson for the group and to represent them in contacting CSV about our wishes. Dealing with state Departments can be difficult and frustrating, however we never lost sight of our objectives and desired outcomes.
Finally, after five long years of battling the bureaucrats, jumping through many, many hoops, having disaffected social workers replaced, and having a heart-to-heart meeting with the head of CSV, we finally established a program with Guatemala.
In 1990 six files from six childless couples were sent to Eliza Martinez orphanage, and ours (Nany and me) was on the top of the pile.
1991 and dreams do come true.
In May 1991 Nancy and I boarded a jumbo jet in Melbourne to fly on the first leg of a dream trip to meet with the Irma – Director of Hogar Eliza Martinez, fill out agreement papers, attend court in Guatemala City and return with our beautiful now adopted four-year-old bundle of joy; our little Mayan prince, Oscar.
From that day in 1985 when we made our first enquiries to CSV, it had taken six and a half years to fulfil our dream of having children of our own. It was a gruelling six and a half years but oh so worth it.
We arrived in Hogar Eliza Martinez orphanage in the early afternoon and were greeted warmly. The Orphanage Director then spent 30 minutes with us speaking about Oscar and asked us to wait while she went to collect him. As he walked in to meet us, Nancy was so overcome with joy and love, that she sobbed on the shoulders of a friend who was with us, and I bent to say ‘Hola’ and picked him up. We were deliriously happy, and our lives were changed in an instant.
Thirty-Two Years Have Passed
It’s Wednesday 3rd August 2023. Nancy sadly passed on 29 August 2015, Oscar is 36 years old and a fine young man, and I’m in my twilight years. As I sit here on my sofa, Nessa by my side, alone with my thoughts, and having mind-walked down memory lane, I understand that whilst I can remember the past, I don’t wish to dwell there, for the scars of love and loss, are still not fully healed, and I don’t need to be reminded of what might have been, but rather am grateful for what was, what is and what may be.
I’ve had an interesting life and it goes on.
Tomorrow 4th August 2023
There will only be joy and joyful busyness for me today; as I brush and lay out my favourite suit, iron my best shirt, polish my Italian leather boots, prepare for the huge celebratory day, as, gathered together with family, friends and loved ones, at Jackalope Winery, in Red Hill, because our little Mayan prince, Oscar, now all grown up, will marry his sweetheart, Katrina, to live, love, and thrive in what I believe, and fervently hope, will be many joyous and deliriously happy years together.
I’m leaving my attic now to return to this moment. Jenni, my other short live partners, The Printing Trade, Telecommunications, and other memory fragments from the past, can lay in peace now, for they’ll be there in the ‘attic in my mind’ whenever I wish to visit.
With my true soulmate resting warmly in my heart, I’m comfortable, knowing the past choices I made, were the best I could make, at the times I made them.
Right now, though, in this moment, I am listening to Bob Dylan’s, ‘Every Grain of Sand’ “At the time of my confession/in the hour of my deepest need/when the pool of tears beneath my feet/drown every newborn seed/ there’s a crying voice within me/reaching out somewhere….”
I am a product of my existence, a first-born son of my dear departed parents Bill & Margaret, a brother to my siblings Carole, Jacqui, Susan & Mike, Widower, Father to Oscar and future father-in-Law to Katrina. I have survived, and thrived, and life goes on.
David A Hughes's Blog 