“And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man in the moon
”When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when”
But we’ll get together then
”
My relationship with my dad was not good. In fact, it was pretty terrible. He was an angry, abusive drunk and I was scared of him till the day he died. That was 23 years ago and I’ve spent a lot of that time hating him. I just couldn’t understand why he was so angry. Why he couldn’t show me kindness or compassion. Why he was so miserable whenever he was around his family. Why he didn’t love me.
And then I realised that he did love me. He just didn’t know how to show it.
So today, on Father’s Day, I want to remember my dad in a different way. I want to share the little things about him that made me smile. That still make me smile.
Rasim Lelic was born in Bosnia and Herzegovina, in a town called Bosanska Krupa. He came to Australia as a refugee when he was 18 to escape being conscripted into compulsory military service. He fell in love with this country and as soon as he was able to, became an Australian citizen.
My dad had the best hair — a rockabilly pompadour modelled after his hero Elvis. He would use brylcreem to make it shine and would get upset if a strand was out of place. For those of you who know me, this must sound very familiar. My dad had naturally wavy hair and he hated this. He would rush out to the hairdresser whenever it got too long because only girls have curly hair. He wore this hairstyle with pride (minus the brylcreem) until the day he died.
Dad always wore slacks. Slacks, a white singlet, a crisp, starched shirt and a cardigan. It wasn’t until he got much older and was going through the treatment for his cancer that he started wearing denim jeans. He still wore his cardigans though.
Dad was a smart man and would constantly remind me and my siblings of this. He would say that if you woke him up in the middle of the night to ask him any mathematical equation, he would be able to answer it. Without fail.
My dad loved to dance. When Elvis came on the radio, he would grab mum in the kitchen and twirl her around, crooning along in his thick Bosnian accent. He had the best moves and would often go into a solo boogie, leaving mum standing next to him, unable to keep up. I learned how to dance by watching him.
Dad made the best beef goulash. He didn’t cook often but when he did it was a flavour explosion of deliciousness!
My dad used to call me Rabbit because I had gaps on either side of my first two front adult teeth, making them look bigger than they actually were. I also loved chomping on raw carrots. To this day, rabbits remind me of dad — of the rare times he showed me his tender, caring side. I have a tattoo of a rabbit on my shoulder blade to remind me of this.
He would never say it out loud, but my dad thought I was clever. When I brought home my report cards full of A’s, he would hold them in his big, hard working hands and smile.
Dad’s pride and joy were his home grown tomatoes, spring onions and locally cured bresaola. Knowing how much I loved all three, he would slice off a chunk of meat, the thicker the better, and serve it to me with a tomato and spring onion, plucked fresh from his garden. Heaven!
I wish I could talk to my dad. To tell him all of the things I was too scared to when he was alive. I wish he could meet my wife and kids. To see how amazing they are and how much they love me. I wish he could tell me how proud he is of me. Proud of what I have achieved and the life I have created.
Dad, you were a complex individual with multiple layers of trauma and sadness. In death, I hope you’ve finally found the peace you could never find in life.
I love you. Happy Father’s Day.