Patrick ...Remembrance Day
You need to know Patrick...
Introducing Patrick…
a Sight of Salvation ...
Nobody wants to know Patrick....
There's community then there's community!
Remembrance day was unforgettable. Kate had lead a sensitive and creative time of worship. Now we stood in silence for three minutes, well we would have except for Patrick. He chose this moment of all moments to go off on one. "No I wont be bloody well quiet" was one of the politer responses that polluted the silence.
Eventually I tempted him with a "fancy a cup of tea?" We make our way to the adjacent kitchen. The door gently closes providing the sound proofing for my tirade. "you’ve pushed me too far". "What about my cup of tea guv?" he asks pitifully. "You want a cup of tea" as I nearly throw the cup at him. I don’t know really what has taken control of me. Two weeks of Patrick abusing us all has taken its toll and I’m on the edge. I want to come back but I can’t I am so angry and helpless. There’s a look in Patrick’s eye that I haven’t seen before – fear. He looks at me as if for the first time in his life there is someone madder in the room with him. He is right. In the maelstrom of my diatribe, rant, rage - he winds me, like a punch to the stomach.
He looks at me and is lucid. It stuns me. I’m shocked, staggered Patrick is never lucid!
In between deep uncontrollable sobs he whispers "In the war…I saw a …bus blown up …there were mothers… there were babies …" He walks to me and we embrace I hold his head like a child’s as he sobs onto my shoulder. "I’m sorry Patrick so sorry…so sorry" I sob back.
That is community, family like nothing I have experienced before. Intense two worlds smashed together by something shared.
Introducing Patrick…
a Sight of Salvation ...
Nobody wants to know Patrick....
There's community then there's community!
Remembrance day was unforgettable. Kate had lead a sensitive and creative time of worship. Now we stood in silence for three minutes, well we would have except for Patrick. He chose this moment of all moments to go off on one. "No I wont be bloody well quiet" was one of the politer responses that polluted the silence.
Eventually I tempted him with a "fancy a cup of tea?" We make our way to the adjacent kitchen. The door gently closes providing the sound proofing for my tirade. "you’ve pushed me too far". "What about my cup of tea guv?" he asks pitifully. "You want a cup of tea" as I nearly throw the cup at him. I don’t know really what has taken control of me. Two weeks of Patrick abusing us all has taken its toll and I’m on the edge. I want to come back but I can’t I am so angry and helpless. There’s a look in Patrick’s eye that I haven’t seen before – fear. He looks at me as if for the first time in his life there is someone madder in the room with him. He is right. In the maelstrom of my diatribe, rant, rage - he winds me, like a punch to the stomach.
He looks at me and is lucid. It stuns me. I’m shocked, staggered Patrick is never lucid!
In between deep uncontrollable sobs he whispers "In the war…I saw a …bus blown up …there were mothers… there were babies …" He walks to me and we embrace I hold his head like a child’s as he sobs onto my shoulder. "I’m sorry Patrick so sorry…so sorry" I sob back.
That is community, family like nothing I have experienced before. Intense two worlds smashed together by something shared.
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