The Wall Chapter II: Thin Ice

Well I read your letter about what I wrote and how, as you said “This isn’t about me Mr. Pink I want you to write this down because you may feel more comfortable writing it than saying it, and I would like you to write about events you had before meeting me and what happened and how it affected you as a person.” “P.S. I have I good relationship with my wife and if you truly want help, refrain yourself from mentioning a false affair with my medical assistant.” Yeah like that post script part is true, but I'll do everything you asked since my friends and family want me to get help from you. But I will warn you ahead of time that this isn’t going to be a nice trip down memory lane for me or for you. You will be treading very thin ice. Anyway I was born to a school teacher dad and a stay at home mother.

I was born in 1943 in a small two floor house in London. My dad was a pacifist and apart of the communist party in England. Mother was more or less the same. They were both studying to become school teachers and might have met while at college, although I don’t know if this is true some people say they met in high school. Either way I was born two years after they married. One of the first memories I have is me laying in my crib and two figures walking towards me. They then came into my line of sight and realized these were people who I knew. They looked at each other and then looked down at me. The smaller one then picked me up and rocked me side to side. Then the small one started to talk in a sing-song tone saying “Momma loves her baby. And daddy loves you to.” Then the tall figure walked close and stared at me. I can see the eyes now old yet young and somewhat envious of me. The tall figure then said “the sea must look warm to him babe and the sky looks blue.” The small figure looked at the tall one and then placed me back in the crib. They smiled at each other kissed and embraced and walked out of the room closing the door behind them.
From what I can tell this was when I was two month’s old and the tall figure was the first and last time I saw my Dad in person. Apparently he was deployed into the British army and was sent to Italy. The next memory I remember was maybe three months later it was almost the same situation from the first memory but something was different, it felt colder. The small figure walked in alone this time and came to the crib and picked me up again. Then she started to sing to me again “Momma loves her baby and Daddy loves you to.” But something had changed in her voice, it was shaky and the words of Daddy seemed to come out harder for the figure. Then she put me down and left the room.

The first memory I mentioned doc wasn’t the only time I would see Dad but it was the only time he was really there. It was also the first and final time I remember seeing my mother truly happy and joyous. My mother was upset that day and for two weeks after that from what my relatives say. She was upset because dad had died during the battle of Anzio Bridge. I never saw dad in person again the only thing I had were relatives accounts and that I looked a lot like him. Which whenever I heard that it just made me want to cry. I once remember breaking a bathroom mirror out of resentment of having to look at my father’s face but not know him at all. After dad died my mother took up a teaching job at a high school and I rarely saw her as much after becoming five months old.