The Ballad of March Forth
Power. |
I learned many things from my dad. He was my greatest teacher, both in life and in death. His life story rivalled the best of any Shakespearean drama, but if I could condense it into one soundbite, his birthday sums it up: March Forth. It’s not just a date in the calendar, it’s a direction – to do something, to go somewhere.
My grief and depression following his death was the launch
pad for The Year of Celebration. I needed
to find something to keep me going. If I had a reason, a purpose, an obligation
to celebrate every day, I’d have to, wouldn’t I? Well, some days that was just plain
impossible, and the most I could do in a day was to simply not die.
As I look back, I realise that’s because I never stopped
marching forth. Even when it felt like crawling, even when I was fighting
against quicksand, even when my movements were imperceptible to the naked eye, I
still marched forth.
I do not take credit for this. There has been a force much
bigger than me in all of it. Some call it God, some call it the Universe, some
call it Fate. I call it Love, because that’s the only way I know how to describe
what runs through the human beings that have saved me.
The big kid. |
In my twenties, he would call me at dawn (much to my
annoyance) to be the first to say good morning. He would write me long emails
at midnight about everything and anything. He would ask me to proofread his
articles and speeches and I’d feign nonchalance, when my spirit was skipping at
the realisation that my idol considered me an equal.
After he died, I wished for months to dream of him. Every
night, I’d go to sleep hoping that he’d visit me, and I waited for a long time.
And then waited some more. I finally gave up and came to the disheartening
conclusion that everything was in the past. My future did not include my father.
Then I dreamed of him. Well, his voice. In the dream, he
left a message: “Hi Li, it’s just me. No need to call me back. In fact, you can’t
right now. But I just wanted to check in on you and let you know I love you.”
Love. There’s that word again.
Julian Hall was many things: a politician, a lawyer, a
singer, an actor, a bon vivant, a comeback kid, a giant of man with an
untouchable wit. He was in no way perfect and his troubles pressed down on him from
all directions. He suffered, both by his own hand and by those of others. But
he was my father. Not a perfect one. Some days not even a “good” one, but he
was mine. He knew how to live, but far more importantly, he knew how to love.
Even in death, I feel his hand on my shoulder, pushing me forward.
Helping me march forth.
“I’m talking about love, forgiveness and humility, I want
to tell you this: I am a work in progress on these fronts. But, love, I’ve got
cornered”
~ Julian Hall
“From Butchie,
with Love” speech.
Bermuda Industrial
Union Labour Day Banquet. September 2005.
Bermuda Industrial Union Rally [date unknown] |
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