A New Belief - Angels, Archangels, God, Spiritual Enlightenment

I'm beginning to believe that this all started last year when I wrote a letter to my Mother. I started writing it on 5th August 2004. It must have drawn attention to Spirit. Maybe it was a sign that I was ready to write. Here it is:

By the time you read this, Jill, Max, Cooper and me will be on holiday where we've no contact by phone. We left on 5th December. It's our 50th and 40th birthday present from last year. Then when we get back I fly off to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates to do some contract work over Christmas. I'll miss my family over Christmas, but we're desperate for the money. I'll not be back until the New Year.

It's the first time I've ever been away from family at Christmas, so it'll be an emotional time for Jill and me, but you wouldn't know all this, would you? Because you don't show any interest!

Why am I having to write to you, and not talk to you face-to-face? Because you won't listen to me. You shut me up and tell me you don't want to know, anytime we get into an emotional conversation, or if we talk about you personally. All I ever get, typically is, "I'm too old to change, so leave it alone!"

A few days ago I answered the phone in my office and it was you, wanting to give Jill a new credit card number so Jill could order you some more aloe-vera juice. You have the telephone number. You know how to order it yourself; yet you ‘put-on’ Jill to order it for you; still. I tried to get you to talk on the phone, but you dismissed me, saying breakfast was on and you needed to go. Unless you’re talking about your health, you don’t have anything to say. You didn’t ask about the kids, or Jill either.

That was the first time I'd heard from you in about 6 months. In that six months, you've rang Jill many times to order aloe-vera juice, or to tell her you've not sent her a birthday card, or to say you've sent money for the kids birthday, yet; you've never asked about me and you don't ask about my children.

Jill gets really embarrassed when she gets off the phone because you don't ask about me. Sometimes I've been right at the side of her when you've phoned, expecting you to ask for me, and I've told Jill only to give the phone to me if you ask about me, so I know you 'want' to talk to me, and not because I've made you talk to me.

You may want to sit down at this point if you're stood up. This is a long letter.

As you can see Mum, I can type now, but you wouldn't know that, because you never show any interest in me, Jill or our wonderful two boys. You don't really know Jill. You don't know Max and Cooper and they don't know you.

I know you moan to other people that you don't see me very often, even though I call almost every week nearby, to pick Brett up; because they tell me. But have you ever wondered why? And if you have, have you ever thought to ask me?

Well it's time to let you know why, and it's time to let you know how I feel. I can't keep holding back all the time, for the sake of not hurting your feelings. It's time to let go.

I got a call from Mark, and then from Sharon on 23rd November to say you were in hospital, due to a suspected heart attack. They left a message on my answer phone at work. Several times now, I've given you my mobile number, and I've told you we don't have a land-line at home. I've given you Jill's mobile number, yet you still call on the office phone and then have to leave a message if it's in the evening, and yet you still don't ask us for our mobile numbers. If you were senile, I'd make allowances, but your not, so I won't.

Hence, Mark and Sharon have to ring me at work, out of hours, with the only number they could get, and we didn't get the message until some time the following day.

I called the hospital that same morning. It was a Wednesday. The duty nurse told me you were fine. You'd just had a blood test, and were waiting for the doctor to sign you off, so you could go home that day.

I specifically asked a favour of the nurse. I explained that we weren't a close family, and it was important you knew I'd called, to check on you. I asked her to be kind enough to tell you that I wished you well.

Did you call me when you got home? No! Did you acknowledge that I'd called after you? No! And this is how it's been, for years. So after a time, you get hardened to it (sort of).

Let's go back a few years, which is hard for me, because I only have bad memories of my family past.

I know you had a very strict, hard, Victorian upbringing Mum, but people can change, if they 'want' to.

I can't recall any happiness as a child. I remember the beatings from Dad, and the fear of being in his presence.

I remember being beaten for things that Mark did, or both of us being beaten because Dad didn't know which one of us was in the wrong; so he'd beat us both.

I sit down together with Jill sometimes and try to recall my childhood holidays. The only holidays with you I can ever really remember, was when we went to Scarborough when I was about 8 (1964?) and Caister when I was about 11 (1965?)

I sit down and try and recall the happy times we spent together in my childhood, and I can't remember any. I've spent hours trying to remember any times of laughter and fun together and I can't remember any. And the sad thing is, that I didn't know any better. I was brought up that way, so it was just normal to me.

By the time I was in my late teens I had a real ‘mean’ streak in me. Like father, like son. Dad had a real mean streak, and in his own way, he'd programmed me the same way. By the time I met my future wife, I was just desperate to get away from home. I never fell in love with her, although she became my best friend. It was just a means to an end to get away from home.

I remember her walking down the aisle and I was thinking, "What am I doing here?" And like a fool, and like many others before me, and many more after me, I thought, "But I can't let all these people down, so much money's been spent. They'll hate me."

That was my immaturity; it should have never got that far. When I was with her, I was hell to live with. I didn't love her, I didn't want her near me at times. She irritated me at times, and I still had my mean streak, I didn't know any different then. I fooled around with a lot of other women until I met Sue.

What 'was' a major turning point in my life though, was meeting her family. They were a very close family; extremely warm to one another, loving, caring and sharing. They spent a lot of time together… sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters and cousins. They met regularly for celebrations. They'd greet each other with hugs and kisses. This was all strange to me. I'd not experienced it before.

I introduced you to them at one of their family occasions. They were having a party. They had lots of parties. When we came away, you told me you never wanted to go to one of their parties again. You said they made you feel uncomfortable with all the hugging and kissing. You said they weren't normal; that they were weird, and you didn't like it. Dad agreed.

I understood you at the time, and agreed with you… because I didn't know any different.

As time went by, and I got to know my wife's family, it began to dawn on me that maybe; just maybe; it wasn't 'them' that were strange. It was 'our' family. I started to notice other families, and families on TV, and began to realise that it was ‘our’ family that was strange.

When I was a very young child I have the faintest memories of sitting with you. But Mom, I can't ever remember being cuddled. I don't ever remember being hugged. I don't ever remember Dad hugging me.

Now, when I watch TV and I see father and son hugging, or mum and son hug, I cry. That's right Mum, I cry. Jill gets so upset when she sees me and she knows now why I cry, and sometimes she cries for me too.

The hugs and kisses are something I can never get back. Gone forever! Yet I'm forever reminded when I watch loving families on TV, or if I meet them in real life.

Some of my greatest achievements were at school, in sport. I threw the 'shot' for the school in county games. I held the high jump record at Gosforth for a while at 5' 10½". I was the leading goal scorer in the school football team. I raced a sailing dinghy for the school at Ogston Reservoir. I captained the school rugby team. I was the only cricket player to ever hit a cricket ball far enough that it broke a huge pavilion window. Our teacher first looked angry, and then just burst into laughter. He'd never thought it possible that anyone could hit the ball that far.

Whenever I told you about these feats; these achievements; all I'd ever get from dad was, "Not bad!" I've lived with 'Not bad!' all my life. You never came to see me. You never encouraged me. You never encouraged me to do better. You never bought me books to help me get even further.

When I was 30 in 1984, I'd been moto-crossing for about 3 or 4 years. Again you'd shown no interest. I let you know that there was an event at Coal Aston for the first time ever, and asked you to come. My race-day was from 7.00am in the morning till 6.00pm at night. You came for my first race of three, around 12.00 mid-day.

I won my 'first ever' race after nearly four years of trying. When I came to see you, I was on a real 'high'. I was elated. So excited. Especially having done it in front of you. I was again looking for recognition from my parents. All Dad could say was "Not bad!"

Then you told me it wasn't really for you, and you left. You'd only been there an hour. It was a pleasant sunny day. I was devastated. My first ever win and no compliments; no proud parents. My long-standing friend, who you know, John D, was there that day to help me with preparation and lap-timing; he told me that he was stunned that you left. In fact he was gob smacked.

I realise now that I craved attention because I didn't get any at home. ‘That’ craving for attention was seen in a different light by other people in my school years. They just saw me as a big head, bragging about what I'd done and what I ‘could’ do. I just wanted people to recognise me.

Years later I realised I'd got that from Dad too. I watched dad at what little social events we had. It was always about money. He always seemed to brag about what you'd got and ask about what other people had got, and how much it cost, trying to impress people. In his own way he was doing the same as I was. He was craving attention.

When you first moved into your current house we went to a Christmas party on the street. Dad got drunk. I watched him bragging to the neighbours and asking people how much things cost. Then when he left, he was so drunk he fell from the kerb edge, flat on his back, in front of everyone.

Is it any wonder you don't get on with people on the street? You just don't know how to be with people sadly….. How to make friends, and more unfortunately, how to keep them. Friendship is often hard work. You have to work at it.

As Jodi, Bianca and Brett were growing up; Sue and I gave out a lot of love in our family. We told the children we loved them, often, and hugged and kissed them often. They became very loving children and you also gave them a lot of your time, which I thank you for.

I have a major regret with my children, and that is that I didn't play with them. I've done lots of things for them, educated them; helped them with problems, supported them and given them great holidays; but I very rarely played with them.

I realise now that this was again, programming from Dad. He never played with me. He never kicked a ball with me. We never did anything together. He took me to a football match twice. I remember going to a circus once.

I remember having a really lonely, boring childhood. Dad never sat and helped me with school work. He just got angry if my results were poor. Dad never helped me with career advice, so I ended up wasting years of my life in a poor choice of career.

By the time I'd set up in business with the construction company; lost that, and then set up with the motor company, Dad started to help in other ways.

He was always there for me to help with practical things in the house, and I appreciated that. When he retired, rather than pay someone else to do handyman things, I offered it to Dad, just for something for him to do.

There was no pressure. I just felt that if there was any cash income going, I'd offer it to you first. It was a big let down from what he'd been earning before, but I could only pay the going rate that I'd give other people, except that I paid his fuel too.

No-one forced dad to help out with the company; yet years later, he told me he felt I'd used him as a slave. I didn't need that, it was his choice.

You helped me out when we started with the motor company whilst Dad was part of the company. I was very appreciative if that. Yet I got little thanks for servicing and maintaining your car for years for free, and supplying you with cars at less than cost. Occasionally if there was an expensive part to replace, I'd ask you for the money; but mainly you got servicing and repairs free, with little gratitude.

The next time you really helped me out, was when you loaned me money to start a business, after I lost the Ford Dealership at Ford Corner. I was grateful for that, and showed it.

I paid you back over a period of time. I know it was longer than we first expected, and you got bitter about wanting the last few thousand back. So I went and got a bank loan. You never asked for interest on the money, and because it'd taken a while I calculated the interest you lost on not having the money in a savings account, and added it to the cheque I gave you. It was around an extra £2000.00.

I told you, when I gave you the cheque that I'd added interest. You simply said, "Oh, right!" You didn't thank me, didn't really acknowledge it, and made me wonder why I'd bothered.

Interestingly, when I met my brother Mark a few weeks ago, I mentioned this to him, and he was taken aback. He told me that he thought I still owed a lot of money to you, and he'd no idea I'd paid it back, or that I'd paid you interest. He was holding that against me, thinking I'd 'taken you for a ride'.

After Sue left, and I started my relationship with Jill, you took my name off your will as executer. You said it was because you didn't know Jill and you felt insecure about me being executor, now that I wasn't with Sue. You didn't make Mark executor. That wouldn't have been so bad. No, you've made someone else executor. What mother makes someone else executor when she has 2 adult children? I was gutted. You made it clear that you thought Jill might be a gold digger, and that you neither trusted Mark nor me, and said you thought we'd fight over the will.

Stupid thing is that the executor merely informs people, and has no legal rights over the will whatsoever. The will's a legal document that the executor has no say in changing. Yes it can be contested, by anyone, but the executor doesn't have any legal rights over it.

Mom, I had little money and little equity. A gold digger would have gone for someone with money. Jill is the best thing that's ever happened to me. You don't know her, because you've chosen not to. You don't show her any interest, just like you don't me, Max and Cooper. You never call to see how they are. Forget me, in this instance; you've 2 handsome, intelligent grandsons, that you show no care for, other than feeling you ought to send them some money at Christmas and Birthdays.

Max is nearly 7, and you've only seen him about seven or eight times. If you'd have called and asked me if you could see them, I'd have come over. But you don't. You've no interest in them, and that really hurts.

As you know I've kept trying to befriend Mark over the years. It's not been easy. I still send him Birthday and Christmas cards, but never get one back. As a youth, he lived in my shadow because of the way you and Dad would compare him to me. As a result he grew up resenting me, as he always felt that you thought of him as inferior to me. That's why he rebelled, and he's still bearing that cross. He needed encouragement, not being told he should be more like me.

Christmas is often the hardest time to bear for me. First we had, "We're not buying you Christmas presents anymore, we'll just buy for the kids". And then it was, "We're just going to have a quiet Christmas", in other words…. We don't want you around on Christmas Day.

I asked you for a number of years what you were doing Christmas Day and when I got that answer for a number of years, I stopped asking.

Remember when we brought you down to our house at Church Mews for Christmas Dinner with Jill's Mum and Dad? When you left, and unknown to me (until Jill finally told me), Jill's mum told Jill she never wanted to repeat it again. She was stunned by how you kept putting me down and talked poorly of me to her, and how my Dad kept asking how much everything cost.

When I was at Salisbury Avenue, Dad would regularly talk about how half of everything there would be mine. I told him regularly that there was only one important thing that I'd like him to leave me, and that was the Bowie hunting knife on the dining room wall. He promised me I'd have it, and Mark could have something else as 'first pick'. Many times Dad would tell me it would be mine. So when he decided to clear out all the ‘wall hangings’, he gave me a bundle of those 'wall hangings'. I asked him about the hunting knife. I was devastated when he told me he'd given it to Mark. For years, he'd tell me he'd make sure it was left for me. It was the only possession of yours that I cared for.

Then there was the disability allowance. You asked me to help you sort it out. I found out about it for you, and also found that it could be backdated. You weren't expecting that, and you weren't expecting how 'much' money I was able to get you, on a monthly basis. Not only did I get you an extra £2000.00+ arrears that you weren't expecting, but you got a bigger monthly cheque than you expected too.

Did I get any thanks? No. And when I jokingly said I'd be expecting some commission from all the money I got you, you turned on me nastily and told me not to even think about it.

Mom, you don't even know what I do. You've never shown any interest. You've a successful son and you don't know what I do, or what I'm up to.

This is me typing this Mom. I type now. I'm a writer, I write books and manuals. I'm a public Speaker. I'm a trainer in communication skills. I'm one of the few body language experts in the world. I'm a Certified Pprofessional Behavioural Analyst. I've got letters after my name Mom. People pay me a lot of money just to listen to me and you don't show me any interest. Is it any wonder we don't call anymore?

Whenever we've tried to get your interest in what we and the children do, you cut across our conversation and start talking about something else. Dad just looks at us and laughs, because he sees it so often. It's incredibly rude and frustrating, so we stopped coming.

Jill's mum died after 20 years of suffering, but she never moaned to either Jill or me. If we visited, her first words were, "How are you, it's lovely to see you." We never got that from you. We just got "Oh, hello!" And then we'd have to sit and listen about your health.

Because you've no interest in us, we've not told you of any of our problems. Here's a few:-

When Max was born he had a hernia, he had to be operated on when he was only 6 weeks old. We could have lost him. He barely survived. He was born on Friday 13 th with a full moon. That night, the electricity failed in Jill’s hospital room. We called a nurse in for assistance. It was the only room that failed. There was no explanation. After 15 minutes the power came back on.

Jill caught Malaria in Palma, Majorca in 1995. She didn't know it at the time and the doctors didn't diagnose it until she collapsed 3 years later and nearly died when the malaria re-surfaced. She was in intensive care at Rotherham for 4 days.

Cooper very nearly died aged six months. He contracted chicken pox and this affected his heart and breathing. It was the worst case Worksop hospital had ever seen. The welts in his head were the deepest they'd seen. At one point he had 12 doctors see him, as his case was so rare. He was in hospital for ten days. It was 'touch and go' at first.

In year 2000/2001/2002 we lost £90,000.00 in our business when the economy went sour. Mostly the money was lost hanging onto staff, hoping there'd be a turn around in the economy. We had to re-mortgage the house to raise £85,000 for our debts.

Cooper recently pulled the TV off its stand and when it fell to the floor crushing his fingers, he fractured one of his fingers and severely bruised the rest.

Max and Cooper have to go to hospital regularly for 'in-steps' to be fitted to their shoes, because they have the same hereditary problem as you and me - flat feet.

Jill caught 'Quinces' 3 years ago. A disease which closes your throat so you can't breathe. We only just got her to hospital in time before she choked to death. It was touch and go as to whether they needed to cut her throat to open an airway to help her to breath. Luckily they managed to clear her throat manually; and with drugs. Meanwhile I had to try and run a business with eight staff and look after a one-year old baby and a three-year old son single-handed.

Max has recently been considered for being expelled from school. He's in the infants for goodness sake, but they don't know how to control him.

My shoulder is seizing so badly now, I have very restricted movement and classed as disabled. I’m having physiotherapy to release the joint and give me more mobility.

My right foot is so bad now since the operation, that I qualify for disabled badges for the car.

It's Sunday 28th November and Cooper's just gone down with sickness. He's got hot and cold sweats; he's throwing up and we've had to put him to bed at mid-day.

We don't bother telling you all this Mom, because you aren't interested. You don't call. Dad never calls. Dad has no interest, unless we arrive on the doorstep, and says, "Hello stranger. You've decide to come then?" And then he wants to talk about money.

Well Mum. You watch enough TV every day to have learned enough about loving family relationships, but seem incapable of applying what you see to our family.

When Dad had his stroke, Sue spent 3 months running you to Rotherham hospital to see Dad. She ran you 4/5 days a week, with hardly a thank you. It put a great strain on her. She still resents the time-out she took with you, with hardly any recognition. You didn't need to go there 'every' night and ‘call’ upon her as you did.

When you broke your leg and we looked after Dad for 3 months, Jill and I hardly had a thank you, let alone compensation, and yet when Mark had Dad at your home at the weekends, you gave Mark money to be able to shop to look after him. Yet remember when I moved back in with you for a while after I left Janine, you made sure I paid you 'board'.

A few months ago, I came to see you. You were in the kitchen. I came to you; told you I loved you and offered to hug you. Within seconds of me trying to hug you, you threw me off and said "That's enough, that's enough!"

Mom… I've tried to love you and you won't let me near you. I understand that you've probably never had that kind of affection from Dad, but I offered it to you and you sent me away.

You find it so difficult to even to give me a maternal kiss. You've maybe told me you love me about 5 times in my adult life.

I can't get back all the love and attention I wish I'd had, and it's hard when I try and show it and get it thrown back at me. All this time, all I've ever wanted is to be loved by my Mum and Dad; and for them to be proud of what I achieve and what I've become.

Jill and I will be living in the USA next year Mum, and we won't be coming back, for any reason. It's been clear to Jill for years that you don't like her or trust her; and it's as clear as day that you've no feelings, or interest in either me or the children; so as far as I'm concerned there isn't any ‘need’ to come back.

Don't send money for the children this year for the sake of it. I'd bought presents for you both, as I always do, but I'm taking them back. I'm not having this charade any more.

When Jill and I drove to see you and found Brenda and Brian from the USA at your home this year, and you'd not even let us know they were coming; we were stunned. People get offended if they travel so far, like from the USA; expect to see relatives, and then don't see them. It leaves them thinking ‘we’ don't 'want' to see them.

I tried to contact Brenda after her outburst about people not contacting her, and she never returned 6 messages; yet she had them, because she talked to you about them.

Then I tried to make contact with cousin Kevan in the US. Pam was so pleased to hear from me on the phone and told me she'd get Kevan to e-mail me. He didn't, so I called again 4 weeks later. I'd just missed Kevan. Pam was surprised Kevan hadn't been in touch. She told me how distant they were from Kevan’s Mum, Brenda, and how difficult she was to get along with. Pam said she'd get Kevan to write. She was really nice. He never did.

By the way, it's not cheaper for Brenda to call you these days; it's now cheaper for you to call her. Call this number 0844 4621 621 and listen to the instructions. It'll only cost you 2p a minute to call her. You'll get billed on your BT bill. That's only £1.20 an hour for a call to the States.

You see, you don't get this kind of information from me now, because you just think I'm a 'smart arse'.

I'm a professional negotiator Mum. That's what I do for a living. I teach people how to negotiate. I cringe at all the money you've blown away because you've never thought to turn to me for advice. I'm the only businessman in our family. I've contacts for all sorts of things at the right money. Even 5 years ago, I could have cut your phone bill in half. I negotiate with people almost every day.

You got 'ripped off' with the heating boiler, and 'ripped off' with the new windows and 'ripped off' with your hearing aid; to name a few.

I didn't want to gloat or say "I told you so". I just wanted to help you. And if that meant you saved money, so you could have an extra holiday every year or do something you'd enjoy, then that's all I wanted for you. And if Dad didn't want to go away, there was nothing stopping you going on your own. There's loads of 'Pensioner' type holidays where older people get totally looked after if they’re infirm.

All my youth I'd listen to you and Dad (especially Dad) at Salisbury Avenue, keep saying to me, "One day half of all this will be yours." You'd really hammer it home so that I was to feel that I should work at my inheritance. Mark would have been too young to notice.

I'm not bothered about the inheritance Mom. Give it to someone else. Change your will and take me off it. It's not important. What was important to me, was to be loved and accepted for who and what I am.

There comes a time in everyone's life when you have to face facts, and this is the time for me. I've come to terms with the fact that you don't have any love for me, and that you're not interested in Jill, Max and Cooper.

I have to say that I feel extremely sad for you and Dad. To have lived your life and not known how to give and receive love must be a very sad thing indeed. In the last 20 years, since I've understood more about loving families, you’ve had the opportunity to receive my love; and in the last 10 years, the love of my wife and our children; but you chose not to accept it. Well Mom, you can only try for so long, then you have to wipe your feet and move on.

All my life has been a cry for love…"Look at me! Look at me! Pick me! Pick me!"

I just feel that I'm ‘supposed’ to come and see you, because it's what's ‘expected’ of me, by both you and other people. That ‘guilt trip’ I'm supposed to be on if I don't call on you.

It's sad that we weren't able to make friends. We're so many generations apart. I've made a point of being friends with my children as they grow. I just hope I can keep it up.

You shouldn't assume that we always have to come to you. You could have picked up the phone and asked me to pick you up, and I'd have brought you over for the day. But you're not interested.

I can't see the point in continually hoping to attain something that I'll never have; a mother and father's love and interest. So I've decided to cut the chords that bind us and walk away. I won't continue to keep feeling that I should call on you, just because you're my parents, when you don't show any interest whether I do, or I don't.

And yes I know it takes two to communicate, and that I don't call you, but this has ‘gone on’ all my life; and little by little I've seen the lack of interest and respect that you give me, so that's why I stopped calling.

I've gone past the point now where I care what you think. We don't see each other very often, so neither of us will miss much.

I won't be visiting or calling on you again, so I wish you both good health and wellness for the future.

Left to fly to Dubai, leaving Jill and the boys to have their first ever Christmas without me. It was very upsetting to be without them at Christmas. Jill was very sad and lonely. The only person to call her in our family on Christmas Day, apart from me, was Bianca, who rang from Tenerife.

Jill leant over to draw the boy's curtains and her Achilles tendon ripped. No pain at first, but within an hour she couldn't put her foot down on the floor. I had to carry her to the car, take the boys to school and take her to the hospital. I then had to leave her there on her own, because we had an appointment back home with a photographer for the house sales brochure. I picked her up later that day. She was on crutches and in great pain. I had to tend to the house for a week on my own, taking and fetching the boys from school, three trips a day, in between keeping the business going.

Jill was only just able to walk without crutches and Cooper went down with a viral gastroenteritis bug. He couldn't keep water down so he started to de-hydrate. He faded quickly after 24 hours. We had to rush him to hospital where he nearly died. He was put on intravenous drips. It was too late to wait for anaesthetic to dull the pain in his hand, to put the drip in.

Six people had to hold him down because of the pain as they fitted the drip to his hand. He screamed the place down. His veins were collapsing because there was so little water in his blood. His eyes were rolling as he was slipping into a coma. We only just caught him in time. Other children started to arrive not long after, with the same complaint. The nurses said the ones under 2 years old only had a 50% chance of survival.

Jill was supposed to be running me to the airport the following day, to fly to Dubai to work. I had to catch 2 trains each way instead. I had to leave Jill to look after the two boys.

When I arrived back, Max had just gone down with the same viral infection, but he was stronger and didn't need the same severe treatment.

Birthday boy. I’m 51 today. But I guess you forgot: no birthday card from you.

Glenn's Diary