Remembering JRP
The real John Polson. By “JB” John Benjamin Polson
They gave him four months to live - four years ago. He never once complained - other than when I nagged him not to eat shit. ‘I feel good’, ‘today’s the best day I’ve had’. He’d go on and on. Until, well, he just couldn’t. On Monday, we lost the ‘real John Polson’. We lost our mate. We lost our Dad. I lost a bit of me. The rearview mirror of life is completely pointless unless it helps you become a better man. It took me too long to understand my Dad. It took me too long to appreciate all the things he has done. Too long to listen. Too long to learn. But I eventually did. In the process, I not only learnt about him, but I learnt about myself. My Dad was me - and it took me 35 years to realise that. The athlete (he was a National-level rower). The Creative (he was a Publisher). The lover of sweets. Hater of small talk. The painfully stubborn, single-minded, traveller. The stereotypical thing to say, I’m sure, is that I would be happy to be half the man he was. Whilst true, that won’t be my driving force as I look away from that rearview mirror. My driving force, right now, is to continue to learn about him. To understand him. To honour him. Love ya’ to bits, Dad.
