Today’s Blog is going to be a little different.
It’s probably not going to have the humor you’ve come to expect (or at least I hope you’ve come to expect!), or any scientific evidence based analysis.
It won’t have anything I’ve learnt that’ll fundamentally shape the way I see the world either.
What it probably will have is a few tears (On my part. Tears are optional for you), a little bit of history about me and, most importantly, a lot of history about my relationship with Dad.
And music.
A lot about music.
Dad passed away earlier this year. Every year on his birthday, when I worked at East FM, I’d wish him as ‘The Greatest Man I’ve ever known’. And I meant it.
His passing has been hard, made immeasurably harder by the passing of my brother just two months after.
In the time between his passing and my brother’s passing, I had written a journal entry on Fathers Day, 18th June 2023, a day before what would have been my mum’s birthday. It’s a regret I will always have that I didn’t share this journal entry with my brother, as he and I were probably the only two people who could fully relate to it. Cest La Vie.
I’m putting it here on This Side of Forty, because I realize that an unfortunate truth about being this side of forty is that deaths of people who are close to us is a reality that we need to contend with.
Maybe reflecting on our relationship with them may make it easier?
Either way, here’s my journal entry in its entirety.
Go well Dad. Give my love to Ayaz and Mum.
The Ecstacy of Gold – Father’s Day
Most People know the theme to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Amazing score by Ennio Morricone.
Most people though, don’t know The Ecstacy Of Gold, arguably the better musical work from the same movie.
I know it, and am better off for it. It enriches me in unimaginable ways.
But this is not really about WHAT I know musically, its more about WHY I know it.
I know it because of my father.
Dad and I really didn’t have much in common. Food, Liverpool Football Club and the big one: MUSIC.
Now I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without my love of music. Virtually all eras, genres, languages…I can find solace and comfort in music when pretty much all else has failed. I suppose, in a way, I rely on music much in the same way people take succor from religion.
But where exactly did that come from?
That would be Dad.
From as long as I can remember, music was the background to life. An ever present constant in every circumstance. From old LP players and records, through cassette tapes, CDs, MP3s and streaming. I even remember the first CD we bought for the car CD player! (Khamoshi, the soundtrack, in case you’re wondering).
I grew up with a host of celebrity ‘friends’: Elvis, The Beatles, Rafi, The Bee Gees, Cliff Richard, Mukesh, Ron Goodwin, Kishore…not sure too many other kids could boast of the same.
As I grew, so did my appreciation of music. My list of ‘friends’ added and added. To the old list was added Sting, U2, Phil Collins, Frank Sinatra, A R Rahman, Junoon, Snoop Dogg…I became a vacuum for music.
I appreciated Classical, Jazz, Reggae, Rock, Hip-hop, Dance, Acoustic, New Age, Bollywood…basically anything you could safely put a tune to.
All because of Dad and his love for music.
As Dad grew older, he grew sicker and frail. Near the end his eye sight completely failed him.
We would still watch the Liverpool games together though, with me providing the additional commentary to the game for him. He never missed a game.
It was hard seeing him like that. So hard.
But the time he really came to life was when we would sit and listen to music together.
Then he was Dad like I always knew and remembered him. As soon as a song was played he’d tell me what movie it was from, who the singer was and the music composer and even occasionally some interesting trivia about it.
It never mattered that I’d heard it a thousand times over. All that mattered was that I was hearing it then.
Now I’d give anything to hear it just one more time.
As I write this, I’m listening to a playlist of our favorite songs on my phone called ‘Dad Oldies English’.
Every song a memory.
Every song a tear.
Every song a smile.
It’s a strange sort of feeling.
Almost an Ecstacy. Except this Ecstacy is worth far more than gold.
Thank you Dad. God Bless.
And he does Rest well, full of Pride and admiration and looking down upon you and saying it is done...
Aleem, you brought to life all the loving memories and his larger than life generosity of love and music.
Indeed, between your mum and dad, they provided a loving home through the symphony of music. May they all rest in Allah's abode. Huge hugs to you