After Dad

Dad passed away a month ago tomorrow. It feels like forever and no time at all. It was both tragic and sad and yet a relief and a blessing. Dad was brave to the end having a long conversation with me on the Monday prior to his death about a Rebus book he has leant me (and I'm still only 100 pages in) but was obviously starting what I anticipated to be a slow decline. By the Thursday he was much worse and by Friday evening he was bed bound. A long, hard weekend of caring for him with my mother (I used to be a nurse, she is a practice nurse and it afforded him far more dignity than having nurses come in) and then he slipped away quickly and quietly by Monday lunchtime surrounded by those that love him. Euphoria was our initial reaction as it was over and he was no longer suffering but this was soon replaced by intense sadness and a reflection on our time together and a future without him.

Dad, me and Tom atop the Moors in North Yorkshire, probably at Danby in the mid 90s when we were in our early teens.

This post wont be too awful I promise, just rationalising why I haven't been blogging and a quick reflection. My brother Tom came over from Australia for the funeral and was here for a fortnight. I was off for three weeks as well as I work 120 miles from home and wasn't in the right place to be away from home. Tom, Mum and myself worked through Dad's clutter. He appeared to have kept every paint tin and door handle since 1987 and considering how prolific a decorator my mother is that was quite the feat. Two skips full of junk plus a couple of dump runs and charity shop donations mean't that Mum didnt have the dispiriting process of working through his belongings. Dad would have preferred it that way. He had no truck with us having a shrine either physical or mental to his life and whilst he hoarded crap would have been glad we got rid of it without ceremony. Mum seems ok and whilst sad managed very well.

Dad in 1980, the wildman that Mum fell for. Terrible hair. The beard followed soon after and I didnt see his face until I was 11.

We couldn't get a funeral for Dad for a fortnight so on Wednesday, April 12th we said goodbye to my hero. He was far from perfect as a person but he was the best Dad I could have wished for. Caring, compassionate, proud of us and good fun, we shared many a joke (often at Mum's expense). Tom read a fantastic eulogy summing up Dad's devotion to his family unit and whilst his childhood was touched upon it was his life as a father and a husband that defined him and where he succeeded so well. Tom, my brother-in-law Ady and myself were 3 of the pall bearers. We were expecting 6 in all but it was so heavy which I couldnt believe. It was only at the wake afterward that my brother told me that only 4 of us carried him in. I was at the front with Ady so we couldn't see how many there were. It was an honour to carry Dad in and one I'm so glad I did. We had a trio of songs that summed up Dad's life with him coming into 'One More Night' by Phil Collins. Dad wasn't a huge fan but it summed up his devotion to Mum that they endlessly played Yahtzee to terrible white-boy soul that Mum loved on an evening and it reminded us of the late 80s early 90s period. The curtains came round his coffin to 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. Dad's musical repertoire didn't increase much after he hit 50 but this was on loop in his car or when he was on the computer. Finally we left the crem to 'Come Up and See Me (Make Me Smile)' by Cockney Rebel. Dad loved this song and found it galling that Mum saw Cockney Rebel live twice when she didn't really care for them. It lightened the mood and we said goodbye. For me Dad started my love of rock music and whilst he was generally pretty mainstream he loved listening to decent songs and set me off with a number of touchstones which I fondly returned to this month.

At his happiest, relaxing outside. Usually with a fag.

A special mention must go to Reverend Roy Shaw, a close friend of my father who had few of them and a former colleague (briefly) of my brother, mother and myself in various guises when he was a social worker. Roy conducted the funeral with a great aplomb and I personally couldn't have been more grateful for his efforts which I know were extremely trying for him. Also to my sister and my wife who read poems that looked at Dad's life and the future and how we must move forward with him our hearts. And move forward we shall. Tonight is the first time I have connected with the emotions Dads death left inside me without a torrent of tears. I'm ok, I'm coping ok but I love my Dad and I miss him dearly. A difficult month but one to treasure and remember as well. Good times, bad times.