Arthur Edward Adcock

I’m really not sure why I have started my family history with my father’s narrative as I began my research with the clear intention of following maternal trails! Perhaps, if I was to examine my reasons more closely, it may be that I have always felt a little guilty that my relationship with my father was not a demonstrably close one.
As a child I knew him as a vague figure who “was around’ but with whom I had little contact. As an adult I understood him to be a complicated man full of insecurities and unresolved issues. I also learned that he was very proud of me and loved me. It came as a surprise when I was in my first year of nursing. A doctor from Cherry Farm Hospital (where my parents worked and lived) was giving us a lecture about psychiatric illnesses. He started his talk by asking the room if there was a “Nurse Adcock” in the room! I raised my hand and he said, “I’ve heard a lot of you from your father. Well done, keep up the good work!” My father actually spoke about me? To a Doctor?” It may seem a normal interaction but for me it was a moment I have never forgotten.
I have one other memory. I was riding my new Vespa scooter back to the hospital for the very first time. It was a journey of 50 miles and my father was following me in the car in case anything went wrong. Which of course it did! I managed to stall the bike going up a hill and unfortunately my legs were not long enough to kick start the scooter and hold it upright at the same time. Straddling the bike I hung on with no thought in mind other than to not drop the scooter. Then I heard a voice calling out, “It’s OK Dad’s here!” Now, running up hills was not something my father would ever voluntarily choose to do. He was overweight with emphysema and I could hear his wheezing long before he reached me. He held the bike for me, I kicked started it and all was right with my world.

These two memories are how I understand him today. However, if my ancestry search is to have any real meaning I will uncover more of the man who was my father.
Please add a comment below if you would like to share the memories of your father.
Just Vicki
💕 A father’s love ☺️
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Thank you so much for taking the time to comment. It’s difficult sharing stories like this but I’m glad I did. We all have different memories of the same person. Mine are just mine.
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