Musical curve-ball on the South Bank |
I knew I`d hear it sooner or later.
And there it was. Pumping out of a crackly speaker from one of the festive stalls on the South Bank in London. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas"--Dad`s favourite song. It's seven months since he died; and so we're heading fast towards the first Christmas without him. He used to shed a tear when he heard it. And even though Alzheimer's caught him; changed him; challenged him to remember even his daughters' names, he'd still smile when he recognised that tune.
Still; hearing it was a bit of a punch in the heart, and so, at lunchtime, in the middle of the Millennium Bridge, I found myself in tears. Luckily, the keen winter wind was leaving everyone with smarting eyes and runny noses.... so I guess I got away with it.
But maybe you've felt it too? The first anniversary, birthday, New Year celebration without someone you've loved so much...someone who's been such a central part of your life? I've found myself smiling at cards he might have liked; touching soft, warm jumpers that would have kept him cosy.
High in the Himalayas |
Then there are books...everywhere. Boxes and boxes have gone to charities across Kent. Yet there are still piles of the ones I couldn't part with on the stairs, under tables, on top of groaning bookshelves. The classics. More
travel. Grammar. Quotations. And poetry. Wordsworth, Masefield, a collection of Burns with a lock of blonde hair between two pages. The joy of learning, and, for the young man who'd left school and gone down the mines at 14, a hunger to read; nurtured as soon as my sister and I could turn a page. Another gift forever. Letters talk of his kindness; his selflessness. Press cuttings report his bravery at 24. More valuable traits to treasure.
Harrow and Wealdstone hero |
Oh.....and the hats. How we laughed as Dad--the 'inconspicuous' royalty protection officer in a top hat-- made it to the middle of the shot on a Telegraph front page. And he laughed at himself too--always a good thing to be able to do. But was fiercely proud of his job, and its responsibilities. Check. And check.
Top hat and gun. *Blending in* |
Anyway, just as I'd got over the London tears, the song came galloping back last night, at a Christmas concert. Thoughts of Dad filled my head. They insisted we all joined in. And so I sang along.....smiling, this time, at sweet memories of a big, strong, brave man, and the incredibly precious gifts he left us with. Including, as I fumbled for a 'just in case' tissue,being in touch with your 'softie' side. Which was OK for him. And is OK for his daughters :)
Happy Christmas xx
Travelling: the next generation. Avec hat... |
PS: And yep; I got to Tonga. And San Francisco. And more. Read about life, four years later, on 2emptynesters.com