Grayson’s Legacy

Grayson Pollock was an appealing, winsome child but it seemed there always had been a certain withdrawn sadness about him. Large doleful grey blue eyes set deeply in pale cheeks stared out from behind his long dark lashes. Of average height for his age, Grayson’s slender frame and stooping posture somehow assisted an impression that he was cowering. 

It was usually assumed that his introversion was merely a feature of temperament and it became accepted that Grayson was just a very inward child. Examination as to whether there might be possible underlying causes for the traits he manifested were apparently overlooked or had been put aside. Such trivialisation left Grayson identified as merely being an introverted little personality with scarcely any thought ever being given to a possible connection between his upbringing and his disposition. 

At some level, in the heart of every little boy, resides the longing to feel he is special. Grayson was no exception and that longing was most keenly felt in relation to his father. A man who displayed profound ineptitude at nurturing his son’s feelings of belonging and being wanted. 
Some little boys grow up fatherless through a tragedy, which physically separates father from son. Perhaps though a far greater tragedy is for a son to grow up, not fatherless in the sense of having lost a father, but to grow up having a father who is there, yet somehow absent for any number of reasons. Such a father through his dis-engagement, falls from the task and privilege of being there in a way which ultimately provides his son with essential preparation for life. 

For the males of the Pollock family, it seemed for generations that an undefinable lack of connection existed between fathers and sons. 
Manifesting in a variety of ways in this family, the evidence of fundamental difficulty repetitively surfaced. Whether it was a kind of stoicism or a ‘stiff upper lip’ syndrome in the males, it seemed just too uncomfortable to ever talk about feelings or to candidly share on matters of the heart. To ever indulge in open, heart-felt reality in conversation was deemed to exhibit weakness. 

And so it was, such dysfunction had taken it’s toll in the life of little Grayson James Pollock. Possessed of the natural yearning any young son has for a father’s affirmation and attention, he grew up through early childhood years under the sterile regimen of a father who provided adequately at a practical level, yet neglected any emotional nurture. This father was either unaware or incapable of arresting any internal deficit accruing in his son as he grew up with a quiet desperation for the slenderest inkling of his father’s approval. 

The manner in which it was confirmed to Grayson James Pollock beyond any doubt that he could not be that special to his papa would have been both shocking and scandalous back in 1850. 

It began with being called in to the front room to have a ‘little talk’ on that horrible blustery September day in London, England. 
By the time the meeting was over, a total sense of isolation and abandonment would be thoroughly imparted to Grayson. Rejection and insecurity as well. 
It wasn’t that he was unloved by his father, it just was never expressed in ways that made it clear to Grayson that he carried much value or significance. Even though he dared to hope and long for this to be the case, the affirmation he courted and sought was never received, leaving Grayson wrestling with a deep sense of being a bothersome nuisance of little consequence and forever feeling in the way. 

At least that was how it appeared in the mind of this nine year old. The meeting he was about to be brought into would do nothing to allay any of those feelings- in fact, the realities about to be disclosed would explode in this young life in such a way that the course of his future would be shatteringly altered. What he was about to discover about some of his father’s choices and the resultant outflow of shame and knee jerk response, held the potential to fortify every one of those lurking feelings of insignificance and it would mark the course of his life. 

Grayson had always been aware that there was a certain silence surrounding the background of his father. Things were not spoken of openly about family matters and it never seemed welcoming territory for a small boy growing up to delve into such areas. 

Timidly making his way along the dark hallway and approaching the heavy stained oak panel door of the front room, Grayson wondered what this summons could be about. Such visits were normally reserved for occasions when warnings or discipline awaited. He couldn’t recollect anything that he might have done to warrant this visit. 
Heart pounding, he knocked and pushed the heavy door open upon hearing a muffled voice he did not immediately recognise extend the invitation to ‘come in’. 

His mother sat in the window seat slightly silhouetted. Her head was bowed and without altering her downward gaze to look at Grayson, she extended her hand toward him. Nervously Grayson shuffled his way to her, eyes searching her face for understanding as to what might be happening. Her unusually pale complexion and swollen red rimmed eyes that had emptied themselves of tears were clear enough evidence of some inner turmoil she was enduring. Staring up into her face trying to catch her eye, Grayson caught her bottom lip lightly trembling. He had seen his mother upset many times in the past but the child sensed that this occasion was somehow more potent than anything he had ever observed previously. 
The atmosphere of the room was charged in a way that even a young boy could not miss. 

There were two other shadowy figures in the room whom Grayson initially took little notice of while being aware of their presence. One was his grandfather and the other with his back turned, Grayson fleetingly thought was his father. He shot a nervous glance in the man’s direction and while noting he was a similar build to his father, he looked somewhat fresher and perhaps a little younger. Grayson did not recall ever having seen this person before. Where was his father? 

Sniffing into the air and then clearing his throat with a rather laboured rattle, grandfather spoke bluntly and formally with his usual lack of warmth. 

“Grayson we need to inform you of something,” he said quietly. “However, firstly, an introduction. Grayson, this is Mr Sutcliffe.” 
The other man in the room stepped forward and took Grayson’s hand. 

“Pleased to meet you, son. You can call me Tom. Looking forward to getting to know you”. 

As the stranger stepped back, Grayson eyed him cautiously wondering what the proposal of ‘getting to know you’ was about. A sense of mild resistance to what was starting to feel like an ambush, arose in Grayson. 

“Grayson, you won’t be seeing your father again I’m afraid,” continued grandfather, “something all of us would be the better for, if it could be managed,” his voice taut with anger. 

Unable to comprehend the words and the dynamic he was being thrust into, yet knowing it was serious, Grayson opened his mouth to say something but words wouldn’t come.