Dad has left us. Shuffled off this mortal coil in what appeared unseemly haste, yet on reflection was a fitting end to the life of a man who was intensely interested in so many things and would have suffered so much more had he been unable to live a full life.
There were two distinct phases of his life; the working years and retirement. As a naval officer, all we knew about his work was that he went off every day in his smart uniform and returned in time for dinner with a kiss for Mom and a smile that said he was happy to see us. He never told us what he did or brought work problems home. Occasionally he would go off to sea for a few weeks and return to tell us that he had been in swells that went 60 feet up and 60 feet down, and that was all.
Dad led by example in the way he lived. He believed that children should be well-mannered and respectful of their elders, and the best way to ensure that was a flick on the ear at the dinner table if we transgressed and his favourite words, “Run along”, when they had company. We had the best childhood ever due to his simple rules and they were proud to have three daughters who could be relied on to not let them down in public. He was a man who served God throughout his long life in this very church, yet never once preached to others on how to live their lives. His gift to his children was accepting that each was different, allowing us to make our own decisions, helping us when they were the wrong ones and loving us equally and unconditionally. We were given freedom in the most real sense of the word. He was an excellent provider, ensuring we were given a safe, secure upbringing with no lack for material needs and no knowledge that the world consisted of anything less.
At the age of 53, he elected to take early retirement rather than move to Pretoria – he always had his priorities right – and from then on his life was filled with activities that were dear to his heart, always including Mother, and thanks to all the years of not buying us ice creams at the beach, they were able to embark on an endless series of holidays. Some were overseas and some were local. Sometimes they came home to have a holiday from holidays. The best times of my life include every holiday spent with them, over the last 60 years, and in fact he and I are booked to go fossil-hunting in the Karoo in August.
He spent many years taking foreign birders on private tours around the country, which allowed him to do the three things he was passionate about: being out in nature, ticking off his bird list and imparting his vast knowledge to interested persons. He was not a man to dominate conversation, preferring to let Mom chat away in her cheerful and engaging manner, and would only enter the fray after careful consideration of his words, which sometimes gave the impression that he hadn’t heard and some patience was required. I don't think there were many who left an encounter with our parents not feeling that their day had been enriched in some way. It was a marriage made in heaven, based on the most important thing: mutual respect: he chose to ignore anything about her that irritated him and she chose to let him believe he was always right. He never discussed politics, money or religion in general conversation - always a winner in my books – and never brought down the tone of the conversation. Negativity, criticism and despair were not on his agenda.
We will never again see him sitting in his chair, working on the cryptic crossword, or filling in his charts on the birds he had seen that day, a full weather report, what he had spent on groceries or household bills. This ritual began more than 40 years ago and as with everything he did, was meticulous in its detail and may yet prove to be of interest to statisticians. I can give you the price of peanut butter in April 1982 if you like. The rainfall report in particular shows that we might just be due for an upswing. His interests included stamps, birds, flora and fauna, astronomy and most of all photography. He belonged to all the affiliated clubs and societies as well as attending UCT’s summer school, U3A and Probus. His sport as a young man was hockey and when asked to point out our dad on the field we would say, the one leaning on his hockey stick - he conserved his energy for when the ball actually came in his direction. I suppose you could say that was the way he approached life. He prepared himself for an event and then waited for it to happen, always trusting that the outcome would be favourable. There was never a Plan B.
He was our go-to for anything we wanted to know, and now we are only left with Google.
When Mom passed away in 2015, he bore his loss with equanimity, but we knew life had lost its lustre without her. He continued to attend all events that they would have anyway, driving very capably to the last, and even in February enjoyed a long trip around the country including the Kruger Park, still ticking off his bird list, and drove to Beaufort West to join the tour, no mean feat for an 88-year-old.
His sudden illness came unexpectedly and was mercifully brief. He reached his last goal, his 89th birthday, and said, ‘It is time. No plan B.’
You are all here because he touched your life in some way, and that is his legacy. He encouraged, mentored and passed on as much knowledge as he could about the things that are important: faith, tolerance and love for this planet and all its creatures.
CROSSING THE BAR = Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Sunset and evening star And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea
But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam
When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far
I hope to see my Pilot’s face When I have crossed the bar.
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