seeing Mom and Carl’s faces, their expressions of
worry and humiliation because they couldn’t give
us any more than that.
Carl is a simple man, but strong and reassuring,
and with him at home life certainly wasn’t bad.
My younger brothers who didn’t know my father
well, call him Dad. It’s a bit more complicated
than that for me. I was already an angry child
when he came to our house, but with patience and
respect he was able to gain my trust and my
affection.
On the other hand, he’s a man who was willing
to load up six kids that weren’t his on his back and
carry them all. How many guys would have done
something like that? He’s got all my respect. He’s
a man to be admired, someone you can always rely
on.
I left home at an early age to lighten the burden
and make space for the others, but I miss them. I
miss the chaos at dinnertime. I miss sitting on the
carpet, us all watching a film together. I miss my
mother’s hugs.
I’m a thirty-year-old man by now, but that
doesn’t mean I can’t miss the affection of my
family, even if at dinnertime I frequently, and
happily, told them that I had already eaten out
because I didn’t want them to eat less on my
account.
I’ve always worked, in the pub, in a factory or a
café. I left school early and took care of myself the
