An indulgence
Categories: uncategorized
Date: 03 January 2007 23:08:03
You have been such a great support to me over the last months and years and especially recently, I am sure that you will grant me this small indulgence. Before I bid him a proper farewell on Friday, I wanted to share with you a little glimpse of my Dad - a couple of recent photos and then the one I used for the order of service.
Talking to the minister today, my sister said something that summed up everything. Sometimes Dad could be great fun and good company, sometimes he had moods that came over him like Churchill's black dog which were beyond his control really but which made life incredibly difficult for those who loved him. But one thing stayed true every minute of every day of our lives. He was always, but always, there for us and we always knew how very much he loved us. And that, for me, makes him a father beyond compare. I feel honoured to have shared my life with him. I remember him telling me the Just So stories again and again, and from him I gained my love of reading. He taught me to name all the birds and I never caught up with his incredible knowledge of each wildflower we saw. He bred in me a love of crosswords, of words in general, and he fostered a love of classical music sufficient that almost every piece of classical music reminds me of him. He taught me so much anatomy that I could name every bone in the body by the age of five and I sailed through the anatomy part of my massage class. I loved the gentle touch of his hand on my head, just laid there in blessing or ruffling my hair. This is the man who walked miles leading a pony when I was too scared to go pony treking on Exmoor, and who ran like Superman to the rescue when the pony bolted and headed for the hills! The man who lost a finger on his left hand when it was eaten by a Jaberwock. (What do you mean, it was a war wound? He only told you that to stop you finding out the truth!). My brother in law said how strange it was that a man who had seen so much of life seemed so quiet and unassuming, smoked only little, didn't really drink, was faithful to mum, never swore and was a real gentleman, a real gentle man - it was that he chose to be.
My Dad.
