Continuing Author journey to become a Storyteller
Stories Remembered, Stories Lost, and Stories Reborn
After the funeral, I met Sarah—Christina’s mother—for lunch. We hadn’t seen each other for many years. We tried to help one another with our mutual grief.
She then said something that broke me further.
“Tom,” she said, tears cascading, “Christina did love you. She only recently said, ‘I miss my dad’s stories at bedtime.’”
I struggled to speak. Finally, I said:
“Sarah… your talk of bedtime stories. It is so incredibly sad. There is no comfort in it, because I can’t remember the details of even one single story.”
After that meeting, I did not see Sarah for some years.
Then—three years later—Jonathan announced something that I will never forget.
He had finished his nighttime toilet and said:
“Daddy, tell me a story like you told my half-sister Christina in Heaven.”
I was shocked. “What story would you like?”
“Any, Daddy,” he said. “What about The Dragon and the Window?”
I paused, then smiled. “OK. Here we go: Once upon a time…”
But this time, storytelling became something different.
The Birth of Jonathan’s Tales
Jonathan’s Tales began in the most practical and personal way possible: I started recording the bedtime stories on my Android phone. Over three years, I recorded more than one hundred stories.
That is how the project became real: Jonathan’s Tales—not just bedtime entertainment, but something built to last.
There were two major differences between the stories I told Christina and the stories I told Jonathan:
- I recorded them, capturing them as they happened.
- I intentionally made them meaningful, not only comforting.
The stories included moral lessons: love, kindness, honesty, friendship, forgiveness. Many stories celebrated difference, showing that differences are not threats but something to honour.
And many of the narratives placed the main characters into awkward, difficult situations—because real life is like that. The stories told how people come through hard times and become better versions of themselves.
Finally, I wove education into the stories across many fronts: culture, science, evolution, anatomy, geography, geology, history, famous people, poetry, idioms, sayings, proverbs, and general wisdom.
I marked these educational notes within the narrative, and then expanded them further with a comprehensive glossary at the end of each volume.
So Jonathan’s Tales is more than a remembrance of bedtime stories. When Volume 4 is released, it will become a veritable encyclopaedia of over 1,500 idioms, sayings, proverbs, and facts.
When Jonathan was nine, bedtime stories were naturally phased out as he grew up. I always regretted not remembering a single story I had told Christina.
Then—one night—Jonathan (or perhaps “someone above” who helped me) gave me the one thing I needed to move forward.
“Daddy,” he said, “can you tell me a story about a Robin and a Penguin?”
I fell silent.
Then he added, anxiously: “Daddy! Daddy!”
Eventually he suggested something better:
“Son, I have a better idea. I have just remembered one story I told your half-sister. The story tonight is The Robin and the Black Mole.”
And that is what I did.
Turning Audio Into Books—and Turning Pain Into Purpose
When I began writing the stories down from the recordings, I often did it in places like Wetherspoons or a coffee shop I frequented.
As the volumes increased, my work grew more intense: translating stories from audio to written form required a second kind of creativity—beyond storytelling itself.
Sometimes, while writing, I would become overwhelmed in those public settings. I was remembering the beautiful times Jonathan and I shared. But just beside those memories was another: Christina. And when she surfaced, so did the tears.
Sometimes acquaintances—nearly friends—would bring me tissues without needing to ask.
I always smiled then, because even in grief, kindness still exists.
After publishing three books, I realised I had deliberately avoided turning The Robin and the Mole into print.
But then, one day, I knew it had to be included in Volume 4—a tribute and honour to my beloved daughter.
So Volume 4 will be the most poignant yet. It will be a shared legacy for Jonathan as he grows older—and for Christina, in Heaven.
Storytelling as a Unifying Force
It is said that storytelling, across the millennia, has acted as a uniting force.
When my first book was published, I thanked Christina in the front pages, and I thought it fitting that I should give Christina’s mother a copy. I knew where she lived, and I drove to see her.
I knocked on what I believed was her address.
A woman opened the door. She looked at me with thoughtful, kind eyes.
“Is Sarah living here?” I asked.
“No,” she smiled. “She lives in the next block—Number 7.”
“Oh?” I said, surprised. “I have a book I want to give her. It’s very personal—connected to her and to our family history.”
The woman said, “Tom… my name is Miss Noble. You don’t remember me, do you? I was at Christina’s funeral.”
She promised to give the book to Sarah, and asked me to write my telephone number on the envelope because Sarah was working at the time. That very morning, she told me, she and Sarah had shared a cup of tea in that same location.
That night, Sarah called me. We spoke for almost an age.
I had not seen her for many years, but when my second book was published we met for lunch. That pattern repeated with my third volume.
And now, through storytelling, something extraordinary has happened: Sarah and I have become friends.
An impossible thing occurred—proof that stories have a way of reaching beyond grief, beyond time, and beyond what should be possible.
Conclusion: Mr Crannigan’s Prophecy
So I look back on sixty years, beginning with that classroom and the unforgettable kindness of Mr Crannigan.
I remember his fateful words:
“One day, Tom Kissack will be a great storyteller and writer.”
He could not have known what form it would take. He could not have known that this journey would become Jonathan’s Tales—many things at once, but essentially metaphors for a life that has been, indeed, very “interesting” and far from simple.
Reader, I leave you to judge whether his words were true.