Requiem

Hello Blog

It's been a while. I find myself making space for you among the piled up washing, scattered jewellery, notebooks, till slips, water bottles and detritus of the last week that has accumulated on the desk in our bedroom. I'm hoping that the cry of "mo-ommmm" keeps away while I take this time to process. I can hear the clink of Oatees being scooped up voraciously, the commentary of the Chinese Grand Prix, and the beeping of the Instant Pot telling me that this week's offering of butter chicken for our newly minted 'varsity student is ready to be distributed into neat little foil dishes for her freezer. There's a tweety sunbird zipping through the Brazilian pepper tree shading our back garden in green leafiness. And oh thank God, a breeze moving it's leaves after the 41'C of this week.

So. Two friends who lost fathers this week. Another two friends who shared the stories of how their dads died quite a few years ago. And my dad who has prostate cancer and started chemo injections this week (but is feeling fine). 

G messaged to tell me his dad had died during the week but forgot to tell me when the memorial was, so I didn't get to fly up for it. Two days later M told us on Friday night at dinner that his dad passed a month ago. I also didn't get to fly up for a memorial. 

I've been processing this news for a few days now.

Last night I asked two friends more about how their fathers had passed. A few years ago L's dad had a massive heart attack the morning after the family went out for dinner and a comedy show. Her lasting memories are of him laughing until he cried, and big sandy footprints in her car.  T's dad worked at a hospital that had a huge heart health drive - he had a heart attack in front of the sign that told everyone it was time to get their heart checked. T said that if he had known that was going to happen he would have laughed about it for days, he had such a fun sense of humour. 

But death only happens if there has been life before that. Not perhaps something you just casually chat about at a 50th, but we did. 

Both men remembered with laughter, joy and love. A perspective only time can bring as those in the rawness of sudden current loss know.

So here is my remembering.

G's dad was a professor and taught so many, living a faith-filled and love-giving life. I only met him once that I can remember. I think a good word for him is "steady". 

M's dad was a geologist who mapped out much of South Africa's riches, whose eyes lit up when his wife walked into the room, lived trying new things (maybe cycling wasn't the greatest idea!), explored and camped until his body gave out, was a real dad to his two super bright boys. He had eyes that reflected distant places, and was a well of knowledge and information wrapped in patience. We could and did chat about all sorts of things, equally comfortable with silence and laughter. 

M's silence is a deep heart cry and grief that cannot (yet) bear to be wrapped in our love and comfort.  G's music the anthem of loss. Both men standing beside their moms in the helpless yet powerful way that only sons can do, taking care of the details. 

Great fathers build and repair foundations, create stability, offer launching pads. Their wisdom, humour and essence are amplified through their children: John Darrell Comins and David Grant, you can be so proud of the men we are humbled to call OUR friends and share life with. 

Cue the trumpet solo G offered up at the closing. Let the notes linger...

Cairns were historically built at crossroads. As reminders, directors, markers of boundaries. Before. After. Here is my offering laid on the cairn of this week's irrevocable living.  

A night that is silent, a night that is bright

The stars gleam brightly in the dawn's early light

While sorrow and sadness weigh us down with our tears

When we look within we find hope midst our fears.

 

How do we continue, is it right to still breathe

When your life has ended and so many emotions rightly seethe?

Yet holding on to those final trumpet notes

There's lightness to be found in the lingering sparkling motes.

 

Of words that were offered as we said farewell and good bye

Capturing lives that explored, that were fully-engaged by

A babe, a child, a teen then young man, husband, colleague and friend

What riches you gave us before your time came to an end

 

Like fossils are treasures made through pressure and time

I know we'll unearth what you left behind

We turn our face to today's warm sunlight

And carry you with us with thankfulness and steps that are bright.

----

To two men dearly loved. And their sons who stand tall beside their moms. My tears fall like hard rain in the desert place of your loss. 

And the teen bangs on his guitar in his room singing " I thought I heard your laugh, I thought I heard you smile". 

And then I did.