My dad was a bit of an activist in my hometown. He was well known to the local newspaper and radio station, writing letters and calling in whenever he saw what he considered to be injustice or a waste of taxpayers money and resources. Even being critically ill didn't slow him down; he caused quite a stir once by threatening to hold a 'sit-in' at the John Radcliffe hospital until he got the quadruple bypass heart surgery he needed (he was in the hospital waiting for the surgery and it got cancelled 4 times in a row. The doctors wanted him to go home and wait, and dad said he wasn't going any-bloody-where until he'd had his ticker re-plumbed. He called both the local and national radio and television stations and all the nationally bestselling papers telling them what was up, and when the hospital staff said they'd have the police remove him, he said if they thought they could evict him AND the rest of the ward who were in on it with him, then they should bring it on. They backed down, and dad got his surgery a day and a half later.).
Anyway, dad's obituary ran in the weekly local paper (The Bicester Advertiser) last week, and one of the resporters who had worked with dad in the past saw it. She called mum and asked if she could do a tribute article for him, saying that he was such a character and she'd never forget him.
Of course mum said yes, and she rang me to tearfully tell me. By the time she'd finished telling me, I was in tears too.
Dad would LOVE it. He'd be so tickled that someone thought enough of him and the changes he'd helped come about that they'd want to write a newspaper article dedicated to him. It would have made his day.....it's already made mum's day, and it's not even published yet!
She's had over 100 condolence and sympathy cards through the mail, she told me today. She even got a couple from some Joe Users, and I cannot even begin to tell you how much it meant to her to know that people she doesn't even know are thinking about her and are sorry for her loss. "It goes to show how far your dad's influence reached" she said tearfully, "all the way to America and even on the internet!".
His cremation service is tomorrow. She read me the order of service cards that she'd had printed up: 2 hymns, a reading of the Corinthians chapter that talks about love (they had that reading at their wedding), a sermon from the pastor that dad and mum have known for 10 years, another hymn, and then a letter and a poem from me. The poem I didn't write, it's 'Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep', but mum had never heard of it before and now thinks it's just wonderful. My brother is supposed to read it, but he doesn't know that he'll be able to get through it without crying so his friend and colleague is going to do it if my bro can't.
She also said that she's been feeling some pretty emotional extremes, even anger - but that she doesn't know quite who she's angry at. She came home from my brother's the other day and decided that she ought to clean out the fridge (when she's stressed, she cleans. Dave wishes that I had inherited that particular trait). There was a jar of jellied eels in there that dad had asked her to get for him the week before he died (they're a British delicacy and he'd get them fresh whenever we went to the seaside. That's one of the most enduring memories I have of him, actually - dad and me at the shellfish stall on the boardwalk, me getting cockles and him getting jellied eels) and mum decided that she'd throw them in the outside garbage can so thet wouldn't stink up the kitchen.....and she took them outside and hurled the jar at the garden wall then sat down and cried in amongst the broken glass and jellied eel. She said she didn't know why she did it and that she felt like a right plonker having to clean it up, but when I asked her if it felt good, she admitted that yes, it did.
She's also managing to smile. She told me about an incident that happened yesterday....and I can't resist passing it on to you:
Mum doesn't do well with rodents. She squeals and shudders at the mere mention of mice and rats - I couldn't even have a hamster when I was a kid because she was so uneasy around them. It wasn't until today that I found out her phobia has grown.....
....she had gone into the shed after a pair of garden shears to trim the roses. Dad made a lot of wine and beer and kept the bottles out there, so she had to move them around to get to the shears. Apparently she made a lot of noise and disturbed a hedgehog who had made it's home in the corner and came out snuffling to see what the commotion was about. Mum shrieked, the hedgehog got scared and ran - which made mum worse (apparently it's the sight of their little legs scurrying that really makes her cringe) and they both were terrified. Mum said she composed herself and decided that a hedgehog wasn't going to beat her, so she went back in and talked to it (Mrs Tiggywinkle is it's name) until she found the shears and then she left as fast as she could. It was gone when she went to put the shears back, and she thinks it's gone for good. I, however, think it'll be back. I wouldn't be surprised if dad didn't have something to do with it being there....he knows that mum isn't as good a gardener as he was so he's sent her a little companion to take care of the slugs and snails. I told her so, and she said she'd rather have had a box of slug pellets and a little note than a flea-ridden hedgehog!
I said last week that I couldn't feel him, couldn't feel dad's presence, and that I had been praying and felt like I was being ignored....well, that's changed. I felt him today. I felt like he was right there with me, seeing what I'm saying and doing. It's a pretty wonderful feeling. I've also felt a definite divine presence...that's the first time that's happened in YEARS. I'm not ready to talk about that at length, so I'll end this ramble of an article on that high note.
I love you, dad. I know you're with me.......