Life and Death Etc., Part Three
One of the things I forgot to put in my last blog kinda harked back to Part One where I rambled on about my deal with the EuroMillions God about if I lost the lottery I gained my Dad’s life. On the Friday night before he died I won the EuroMillions Lottery. I won a grand total of £14. Fucked up eh? Last time I make a deal with anyone!
My wonderful family came and picked me up from the hospital about two hours after Dad died. They were shell-shocked, in recent years they’ve spent more time with him than I have, having him over at Christmas giving him some brilliant days and memories, and taking care of his day-to-day needs. I know he was extremely grateful for all that they did, and there will never be enough words to describe my gratitude.
The next morning I woke early as usual, and with my practical head fully in gear, I got cracking. I dunno if he’d had a premonition or not, but about a month before his op, Dad pre-paid for his funeral. I cannot tell you how simple this made things! I rang one number and a whole system was set in motion. There were a million little things that needed to be done and I’m not sure I did them in any kind of order, but it helped me to get a sense of moving forward.
The funeral director Greta arrived by 9.30 and while she was young enough to be my daughter, she had such a warmth and empathetic air about her that I felt reassured by her just being there. She advised me on what needed to be done, and took care of everything from putting the notice in the paper to sorting some flowers. Dad wasn’t a flower guy really, so I went with white Chrysanthemums cos they were my mum’s favourite flowers. I knew she’d like that, and if she was happy, Dad would be happy.
She dropped me off in town and I did a few errands. but it was more about distracting myself than anything else. I couldn’t get the death certificates till Wednesday, and I wasn’t seeing the lawyer till Tuesday. Alison came over and helped me find the Louis Jordan track amongst my Dad’s ton of CD’s. He really loved his music.
I remember being here in Thailand four years and ringing him to see how he was. He told me he’d bought a BOSE sound system, but it was on a seven-day trial and if I thought it was a waste of money he’d send it back. I told him to enjoy it. Mum wasn’t keen on music playing, it made her hot she said! Him buying that was a sign he was looking on the positive side of things after her death.
Anyway, the week rolled on and stuff got done. His funeral was set for 8th March - exactly one month since I took him into the hospital to have his operation. What a month!
I’d had a lovely meeting with the priest, and as I wasn’t raised Catholic even though both my parents are, I’m never sure of “priest etiquette” so I just tried to not say fuck and treat him with respect. He asked if I wanted any Buddhist reflections in the service which I thought was really cool of him, but it was not about my beliefs, it was about my Dad’s.
On the day, the sun was blazing and it seemed like the right kind of day to celebrate a life fully lived. He would’ve been really pleased at the turn-out of friends and family, lots of whom I didn’t know, but all of whom lined up to tell me what a wonderful man he was. My cousin Barry’s daughter Laura read a piece she’d written about him which was the most amazing testament to his love of life. Way to go Laura!
As the crematorium service ended Louis Jordan began to play and I heard the laughs behind me of “the lads” three of my Dad’s old school friends. They used to play that tune on a Saturday night when they were getting ready to go out on the pull!
Typical Dad, leaving his mates with a laugh.
My wonderful family came and picked me up from the hospital about two hours after Dad died. They were shell-shocked, in recent years they’ve spent more time with him than I have, having him over at Christmas giving him some brilliant days and memories, and taking care of his day-to-day needs. I know he was extremely grateful for all that they did, and there will never be enough words to describe my gratitude.
The next morning I woke early as usual, and with my practical head fully in gear, I got cracking. I dunno if he’d had a premonition or not, but about a month before his op, Dad pre-paid for his funeral. I cannot tell you how simple this made things! I rang one number and a whole system was set in motion. There were a million little things that needed to be done and I’m not sure I did them in any kind of order, but it helped me to get a sense of moving forward.
The funeral director Greta arrived by 9.30 and while she was young enough to be my daughter, she had such a warmth and empathetic air about her that I felt reassured by her just being there. She advised me on what needed to be done, and took care of everything from putting the notice in the paper to sorting some flowers. Dad wasn’t a flower guy really, so I went with white Chrysanthemums cos they were my mum’s favourite flowers. I knew she’d like that, and if she was happy, Dad would be happy.
She dropped me off in town and I did a few errands. but it was more about distracting myself than anything else. I couldn’t get the death certificates till Wednesday, and I wasn’t seeing the lawyer till Tuesday. Alison came over and helped me find the Louis Jordan track amongst my Dad’s ton of CD’s. He really loved his music.
I remember being here in Thailand four years and ringing him to see how he was. He told me he’d bought a BOSE sound system, but it was on a seven-day trial and if I thought it was a waste of money he’d send it back. I told him to enjoy it. Mum wasn’t keen on music playing, it made her hot she said! Him buying that was a sign he was looking on the positive side of things after her death.
Anyway, the week rolled on and stuff got done. His funeral was set for 8th March - exactly one month since I took him into the hospital to have his operation. What a month!
I’d had a lovely meeting with the priest, and as I wasn’t raised Catholic even though both my parents are, I’m never sure of “priest etiquette” so I just tried to not say fuck and treat him with respect. He asked if I wanted any Buddhist reflections in the service which I thought was really cool of him, but it was not about my beliefs, it was about my Dad’s.
On the day, the sun was blazing and it seemed like the right kind of day to celebrate a life fully lived. He would’ve been really pleased at the turn-out of friends and family, lots of whom I didn’t know, but all of whom lined up to tell me what a wonderful man he was. My cousin Barry’s daughter Laura read a piece she’d written about him which was the most amazing testament to his love of life. Way to go Laura!
As the crematorium service ended Louis Jordan began to play and I heard the laughs behind me of “the lads” three of my Dad’s old school friends. They used to play that tune on a Saturday night when they were getting ready to go out on the pull!
Typical Dad, leaving his mates with a laugh.
Labels: Misc and TV
posted by JoJo Smith at Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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