I can’t remember when or how I was told. I just know the feeling. Strange how we block out things in life. I couldn’t tell you how i was told. I just remember knowing my dad was going to die.

It was 1988 the year of the bi-centenary of Australia. I remember that. I remember hearing from mum, dad didn’t have much left as he had leukemia. Dad had mixed some chemicals at a job, he’s inhaled fumes, he’s in hospital. Your dad has leukemia. He was obviously cleaning something, but apparently the fumes over come him in a garage, probably cleaning it for my mum. Typical dad and mum the way they operated. Professional cleaners. Did the chemicals kick it off? I dunno?. How and why then? there it is and there you were told your dads going to die. Chronic lympathic Leukemia

I remember him starting chemotherapy, I remember it knocked him about. The hospitals years became my life. I still don’t like hospitals I’ve seen so many. It’s strange now I can’t remember that 1000 visits they just blur. They all just mash into each other, cause you just get sick of them. You can’t count and want to count. Your just tired of seeing them. Countless blood transfusions defining how long someone has to live is the most daunting technology observed. Washing and replacing someones blood to keep them alive. As the periods between times reduces slowly. The body can’t survive on this as it’s not doing it’s own function, so we try to slow it down. From once every 3 months, Once a month, we get down to every 2 weeks, then we start it weekly, how long before they just can’t keep replacing the body’s needs? Watching someone have this happen to them is the most degrading thing. I have high respect for my father and in the end leukemia reduced him to nothing. It’s a terrible disease people say, I prefer to say condition. He wilted into nothing and just died. I was so glad when he passed, his suffering had ended. There’s only one hospital visit that sticks out as memorable and that was when we got down to one week visits. The doctor said he has about 7 days  left, say your goodbye. I remember, the Asian man saying your father is almost over, the relief and sadness is a feeling you can’t describe. I was by myself looking over him and the doctor says you know what I’m about to say. I’d been going nuts and running a muck, my mums gone and nowhere to be seen. I was now man of the house I asked myself.

My dads death bed in Southport hospital. What can you do at that age? I’d helped him tie up all affairs the weeks before hand, as the transfusions got closer, you know they don’t have long. I’d sold his car for him, rented another, gone to the bank and put the money in. All the financial stuff was done as my mother now over his death, living with another man, we all had had enough. After the original 6 months he got, to live another 4 years was god send. 4 years it took him to die. We swapped watches I’ll always remember. He took my Omega, a cheaper version then the solid gold’s he left me. I’ll never forget it. Now I don’t wear a watch cause I feel it’s not needed when life is timeless. Cherish those around you today. You only have so much time something I forget regularly to care for. Now my greatest lesson as I have a young girl I shouldn’t let her see what I saw, if that was ever my lesson. Some times you have an epiphany. I just had it writing this.

My sister came up from Sydney in his last 3 or 4 days. We packed him now using a wheelchair and 2 canes to walk, his legs wrapped in stockings to help with circulation, his face caved in depleted to nothing but fluid, the life of him all gone and drained. Living on morphine doses higher then any herion junkie. Getting certified special batches of morphine so he could leave the country with it. I think they allowed him a months supply. Someone that was over 2 -5 grams a day depending on how bad the pain was, self dosing himself as no one was around to care for him. Off his head wasted to kill the crying pains he’d scream at night. Falling in the hallway off his head, screaming for his wife that had left him, pissing all over the floor, falling and collapsing in it, too in-cohearent to know where he was. Just terrible to see all alone as a 15year old.. A man with such demeanor and stature taken and turned into nothing. The poor mans suffering was all over. I remember walking with his wheelchair to the plane and just kissing him and the rest is a blur, blocked out again I suppose. He wanted to be buried in Serbia and we put him on a plane to send him to his family. He had 3 children and a wife here in Australia as family. I’ve never understood that fully, how and why he decided, but that was his wish. I think he was just noble to himself in the end. We’d moved so much as a family, how could you call anywhere in Australia really home? 7 days later 4am in the morning we get the call to say he’s gone. Funny how life blocks memories, I’m sure my older sister Angela remembers the call, more not that I’ve ever asked, as I don’t want to relive tears with her. I just remember crying and darkness.

He died November 28 1992 on my younger sisters birthday. He died with my cousins there. I feel sorry for Tracey, every year she has to remember her dad dieing on her birthday. I feel terrible every birthday she has. I wish her happy birthday and just sink at the same time. I want to be happy and over the moon but find it so hard. Imagine how she feels? I don’t know why he didn’t just wait a day. All I know is he never lost his hair to go bald, dad died with a full head of hair and I know he was proud of that. Thanks dad. The scar’s here. You’ll always be missed

It would be 20years later before I’d see his grave.

I think the biggest lesson in life we should all see, is that when it happens to us there’s a reason, and it’s all bigger then us.

The lessons learnt are real
Left to fend and strive
To stand up I was proud
So big for what I knew
Not understanding this path
Making mistakes on taught beliefs
Regrets and lessons come true
Humbling hearts do grow
Lesson the most was one
Be a man, the man you become
Tough with care
You’ll always be there
Happy Birthday to you

Penning pen to paper
I’ll catch you later
I worked out you fobbed a lie
Only you know why
For stupid reason you chose
I reacted pissed to piss on a rose
Stubborn is what you are
No saying hey, we’re are friends from afar
Just cut, cut him loose
Let him think, he knew the truth
When the dust has blown clear
It was rudeness without fear
For fuck sake, how hard could it be?
To be honest, honest to me
Fake self go look in the mirror
Fake lies to me, your not a winner
You never liked someone telling you the truth
Scared little girl, you hurt two, including yourself
Smile at yourself thinking you did the selfish thing
You did! Clap Clap!

reminds me of someone in so many ways

I miss you everyday
I miss you in every way

Sad we don’t speak
Sad we can’t be

I know your doing well
I know we went through small hell

But I just don’t care
I really want you there

We had so many awesome times
We shared adventures, remember those lines

We laughed, enjoyed the worlds best sex
So good so, we laughed about your ex

The countless cuddles, and hugs we shared
Nothing so far, has ever compared

I know this is real, and absolute fact
Only certain people feel, the exact same track

Time heals wounds, as they say
I don’t know why, you have to be this way

People grow, and yes they learn
A proper second chance, I do yearn

I only ever wanted, the best for you
Gave encouragement, my intentions were true

I gave my help and advice
Yes I got caught up, in rolling the dice

It was tough, when I had mess in my head
You were so quick, to cut me dead

I had some issues, and they had to be sorted
I wanted you to help, to be supported

Just two months, was all you tolerated
Jumped ship, and left me under rated

Two months of bad, compared with two years of good
Quit happiness so quick? You would

No patience, or forgiveness, or time
You took off, and and left me high

For I was a mess, and I needed self repair
That you had no time for, or simple care

No explanation, then you went back to your ex
The bastard that stole from you, and left a bad hex

Leaving me desolate, confused and high
I cried for weeks, trying to understand why

You lied to me, as to what when on
Hiding the fact, you went back to the wrong

Leaving me not, for something better
But to see the prick you hated, in your legal letter

And then you went off, searching for love
Preaching the opposite, yet wings like a dove

Telling me stories, of losers and bad times
Hopeless dreams and terrible minds

You came back for seconds, thirds, and more
When I tried the same, I was burned sore

It’s hypocritical, you’ve acted this way
Childish, pathetic, I see it today

Tossed away, and treated as no one
Disowned, hurt, down, not much fun

No communication from you, no reason for course
Just don’t bother me, gone with no remorse

I don’t want you back, as a lover or more
Who wants a person, that chose thief over raw

Raw and real, is all Ive ever been
I put you on a pedestal, and treated you like queen

My heart on sleave, you always knew where I stood
Why give up, on everything if good?

Your still tolerating, the same arsehole for years
My indiscretion’s, didn’t compare to his tears

I showed you your first flowers, and how it should be
I gave you anything, without anything for me

I would do almost everything, that you had asked
Striving to please you, at any task

This I learn’t, was my mistake
Your used to men, who just take

The one’s that lied, and treated you like fool
The guys that took, and broke all the rules

You spent your last week, in my bed
The day you left, “I love you” you said

Have you learn’t, not to love the hard way?
At the cost of my heart strings, and my own dismay

I’ve healed and accepted, become the better
Honored my mistakes, to the letter

Understood, where I went wrong
Become a man, and done it to song

I’ve looked within, and seen who I am
Nothings changed except become a man

Not forgetting, the the little one in life
She talks of you, and is never in strife

Still asking questions, about where you are
Bringing small tears, to both of hearts

Your taught me how, to become man and father
Love oneself, child and other

The impact on life, has been valuable and true
This is why, I’d like to talk to you

Your on my shoulder,  there for keeps
If you forget me, your there for me heaps

Not out of stupidity, or utterly wrong
It’s for life, I desire happiness and long

Even though, you’ve done me like this
I accept and forgive you, carefree Miss

I await that day, we may speak again
I’d really just like, to be your friend

1976 I was born, Bathurst NSW, Australia, 2.5hrs west of the Sydney over the foot of the blue mountains. They once had a prime minister Ben chiefly born and raised in Bathurst. Also home of the James Hardie 1000 Motor race when I grew up. Now the longest motorace in the world, the Bathurst 1000. I was the son of wog parents, My mother also born in Bathurst who had a Yugoslav father and German mother. My father was a direct import migrant from Yugoslavia when I grew up. This thing called Yugoslavia is who I am. Discovering the reality, I went from Australian born to Yugoslav to Serbian and still being the most Australian you’ve ever met. I’ve adopted every personality issued by my parents.  My traits, and my life has mimicked all of the above in the most Australian way. This is about how I change that.

                                    You will grow up and work

I grew up with two sisters, one 8 years older, the other a year younger then I. We grew up in what would have been the biggest house in the town. 6 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, parents retreat. Unheard of back then in those days. My father was a brickcleaner cleaning bricks on new houses when built. His job involved spraying hydrochloric acid on the bricks to wash them, cleaning the excess cement from the bricklayers. This would give the bricks a new look. My mother worked in a processing plant for a chicken manufacturer. Bathurst although small had many factories for various industries.

My sister got a job with the government and moved to Sydney when she was 15 which left me and my younger sister with our parents in Bathurst. The brick cleaning work dried up which saw my father move to Sydney to continue working. My mother then took up initial cleaning meaning she would clean the house after it was first built making it spotless for the new owners. A crappy job back in those days as the tradesman knew they had someone cleaning up after them. So between my father and mother, both were cleaners in some capacity.

When I was 10 we moved to Sydney. My parents again bought a large house. My parents needs for living and having tangible assets were a trait I have come to realise became instilled in me. The need for materialistic objects was etched in stone throughout our childhood. My parents would work 7 days a week dragging my sister and I to work on weekends, having to help. We would leave before the sun come up and get home after dark. We hated weekends for this reason. It was a lesson on working hard that I learned early, and it become a trait Ive kept with me my whole life.

The only spare time I had a kid which my parents allowed was for sport. I was excellent in Karate often training 3-4 times a week and cycling. Soccer was my other favourite. This was the only time I got off school or working with my parents, if I had an event to attend. I was an excellent cyclist on the velodrome. Once attending a meeting and winning five out of six races with the last race giving the opponents a full lap handicap, I still came third in a 2 lap race. I was an excellent cyclist, that same meet I beat a future Olympic medalist Bred Mcgee. I loved cycling the most, as my dad would take me all over the state to compete in events. I think from memory I got 3rd or 2nd in the state once. In soccer I was also the striker, center forward back in those days, I was the one who had to kick the goal. Having played against and with future Socceroo’s, people like Hayden Fox and other international players to find out later. I was good at it, being called up to play 2 years above my age for a greek club in Sydney showed my talents and playing rep soccer for our district through school. My athletic ability was awesome and growing up I had this as a major opportunity, always winning the cross country or the high jump or the long jump at school. I’m sure I still hold records at my primary school for many events as I did set many new records at the school carnival.

I was excellent at school always getting good grades and always learning. I loved school as it didn’t mean Id have to work. After school meant I could play and we’d often get in some sort of trouble in the neighbourhood. My parents were very private people and often they would say we couldn’t tell the other kids this or that. They didn’t like people knowing their business and often we would have to lie about my parents affairs when asked. We couldn’t talk about money to other kids, that was a big no no. If someone would ask how much does you mum earn we’d have to say I don’t know, even if I had just taken the invoices and done a bank run with mum.  Many’s time I filled out her bank book and would run in and drop in the cheque’s for her whilst she waited in the car. I was exposed to business and work in many ways just not cleaning.

My mums and dads cleaning business was booming, they had so much work on they had to work the 7days. They worked hard and earn’t good money for it. I remember my mum could make $500 in a day but she had to work for it. They worked as a team as dad would try to clean the place as best he could at his stage of cleaning, mum would follow soon after him to finish her cleaning. Us kids became experts in cleaning windows, bathrooms, bricks, floors, you name it. We had it down pact and probably the main reason I hate cleaning, but when I do it, I do it right. We were exposed to many chemicals, acids, acetone, thinners, turps, metho, we used it all. Our soft little kids hands never had the chance to get dirty as we had some chemical to clean them just by using them at work. My mum used to put metho on our mosquito bites, wipe our face with metho after squeezing our backheads pimples. Chemicals and my mum. At least the place was clean. I remember carrying a container of acid for my dad half full with water in it diluted, so he could wash the bricks with it, I tried carrying it and it spilled on me. He sprayed me with his high pressure hose and completely knocked me off my feet. Just a little work place accident there. Throwing bricks out of a garage helping dad one day, I sliced my hand, only to have it taped with a band aid and some electrical tape to keep working. I still have the scar. It was hazardous work, and the chemicals were needed to make it easier.

My parents although working hard loved us kids, and gave us the best they could. We never went without. Anything we wanted we eventually got as either a birthday gift or christmas present. We were never spoilt in anyway, learning the value of the dollar though hard work made us appreciate the goods things in life we got. My parents loved jewellery and gold especially. I remember getting lots of silver chains, charms and necklases as a kid. I would often get taunted at school as no other kids would wear anything like that. I got teased a lot for being a wog in general, but even more so when I wore the jewellery. My parents used to say other parents can’t afford this, your lucky, therefore I’d wear it with pride knowing I was going to get into strife for it at school. This would be where I would fight with many a kid. I was always fighting and it was always with a bigger kid. I think during those early years in Sydney I fought with nearly all kids, even my mates. At some time I would have punched them out or made their nose bleed. I don’t think I ever lost a fight to anyone my age or above. I remember one day taking on the biggest kid in our year, and beating him senseless. It was after that the older grades would try to pick fights with me cause they seen I could tough it out. Although shorter then most, I was still athletic and could kick and punch with my Karate training. It was here I’d get in trouble with the school then mum. I remember one day after getting in trouble again, my mum said to me that I should never lie to her, and that if I did, I would get in more trouble. I remember seeing this a green light for getting into trouble. I figured if I told her the truth she’d be happy with the fact I’d been upfront and honest, therefore it would be all OK. So the next day I went to school and punched out a kid for him saying my mum wore army boots. He was a mate too. I remember making his nose bleed sitting on top of him hammering away at his face. To just come home and tell mum before the school did and not get into any trouble was cool. I’m still in contact with that kid funnily enough.

Its better to be big