It’s late. I finish at 11pm at work where I’ve nearly lost the plot tonight. I am charged with the responsibility for keeping four clients with clean bums, good food and some real interaction. Hmm... so what. That’s the life of a paid ‘carer’.
So ... my dad died and a lifetime did not make for an easy or a complete reconciliation.
It’s o.k. Since then, I’ve been wormed, had an abscess, been busted for a minor serious offence, been scattered, not centered, and dealt with the indignities of life ... and all I really wanted was a bit of warmth from the sun and a hug. That was the holiday after death. A few weeks later and I’m home in the mountains... and it's cold again.
I’d booked in for two days with John Stuart’s Sound Heaven Studios which is just down the road from where I live. This was a week ago and I was disappointed with my effort. The wav files from this were to go to Daniel who is the principal songwriter for the band ‘Open’ I rang and told him my heart wasn’t in it. Right songs - wrong timing. I love Daniel ... he is my thirtyish old nephew and I had charged him ... with his happy consent ... to ‘produce’ my next lot of songs. His command of lyric imagery delights me ... I’m not into nepotism. My effort in the studio convinced me to rethink my approach to music. I need to ‘get better’. Perhaps I need to ‘get out and play in public’. It’s a challenge.
Death matters. Because this is true, I leave you with the two songs which I actually played for my dad .. and mum .. while they were alive .. and also the eulogy which I sent to my dad via email and, to which, I received a positive, if somewhat nebulous response.
Life isn’t easy and I suppose I’m trying to connect with those of you who question ... what ? ...everything.
I am hopeful for all our futures ... notwithstanding that I , and you, could be dead tomorrow. ...... after all death is not the purpose of life.
DAD FOREVER
I’VE GOT THIS DAD.. HE’S 85..HE’S GONNA LIVE FOREVER
O BLOODY HELL...O DEARIE ME... O WOT A GREAT PALAVER
IT’S IN THE BLOOD..WOT CAN YOU SAY..I HAD A TALK WITH JULIA
YOU’RE NOT SO BAD..MY DEAR OLD DAD..YOU’RE JUST A BIT PECULIAR
BEFORE YOU SHUFFLE OFF THIS MORTAL COIL
HAVE SOME LUNCH AND CATCH YOUR BREATH
BEFORE YOU NESTLE IN THE ARMS OF GOD
ULLO ULLO...WE RAISE OUR GLASS
LOOK AROUND ...AT US ALL HERE...WE REPRESENT THE PRESENT
THE MOMENT COMES..THE MOMENT GOES..WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRESENCE
WOT CAN I SAY ABOUT MY DAD..I’M TRYING TO BE SPECIFIC
DEPENDING ON JUST WHO YOU ASK...HE CAN BE JUST TERRIFIC
CHORUS AND END
must be sung raucous and off key
'Honour thy Folks' has to be accessed via the song on this site. It matters for what it doesn't say just as it matters for what it does say. Can't find the words on my computer but the song is here. Eulogy follows and then I'll go quiet and get my health back before anymore of anything.
......................................
It’s been a steep learning curve, these last three days. To do things out of love is difficult if you’re not sure what love means. My sister answered this conundrum neatly by saying, “If you’re not sure about the love, do it out of compassion.” .... “Aaah,” I replied ... a sensible answer if ever there was one...... “That, I can understand.... That, I can act on.” It’s funny the way the mind works.
My dad is dying. Not an easy death but, with mental faculties intact, he is facing his pain with a stoic quality which is admirable. He’s too unsteady to be left alone and so my sisters and myself have introduced a roster to see him through, as best we can, this final curtain.
He’s on the Great Dividing Range between life and death, to give it an Australian context.
Does he have a picture of heaven in his mind? He is Roman Catholic. He had Holy Communion, at home, this morning but not as the Last Rites. He is not materialistic. I doubt if he has expectations of ‘rewards’ in heaven. I think he’d want something constructive to do. He’s just not the type to loll about in heavenly mansions and would say he doesn’t need one and words to the effect that you can only wear one set of clothes at a time.... implication, implication, ... look it up in the dictionary....failing that, ‘What’s the context?’ These are all useful arrows towards self education. He has demonstrated no expectation of great reward within the context of his working life. On the contrary, and much to the infuriation of my late departed mum, in the sense that he never pushed for more money or higher position ...he probably thought it below his dignity ... he has given unselfishly to the societies in which he lived....Wales, England and Australia. The fact that he worked for the Standards Association illustrates the practical and real nature of the work he did, with a very keen eye for detail and for the meaning of every word. His efforts have, literally, set standards within this society.
Our relationship has never been easy. Notwithstanding that, he has given some sense of reality to the overused and misused word ‘Values.’ and certainly provided the impetus for my lifelong, underlying quest to find the ‘ true why’ of every situation.
I didn’t have any interests in common from a very early age. Well ... there’s more to it than that. Car engines didn’t interest me. I am left handed. I wasn’t bright as a child, growing up. Eclipsed by an older sister - the same one who demonstrated practical intelligence in respect to compassion -and, of course, I was the only boy with two girls either side. Could be wonderful but wasn’t. Some of the time, it was and that I can’t deny.
Back to dad. The man he was at thirty; intense, prone to migraines, and with five children and a wife to feed; was not the man he mellowed in to.
Taken a long time to mellow, and he still can’t tolerate fools with much grace, and, he is still staunch in his beliefs, many of them politically incorrect but ‘true’.
The love, and, perhaps, more importantly to dad, the intellectual understanding he has with one of his grandchildren is a joy to behold .
As one’s life begins to unfold in decades rather than years, so - do the questions change? Do issues get resolved ? It can all get washed away if compassion rules the roost.
A man is gauged differently, by those with whom he has had meaningful contact in his life, according to the specific nature of that relationship. To some ... incomprehensible at best. To others ... clear and as nourishing as a mountain stream. So said my dad in respect to funeral eulogies. He might have been a bit blunter and put it “Oh for God’s sake... those who’ve bothered to come to the funeral have already formed their opinion so what’s the point of rambling eulogies ?” I’m a bit more poetically inclined but I think I’ve communicated the gist of what he meant.
Who could ask for more ? To have lived a long and constructive life. Never one to ask for much, he is destined for the arms of the only God who matters. Love Incarnate. I think he’d like that idea and must ask him before he goes.