Rest in Peace
My father-in-law passed away last night. We knew it was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The first warning came while at a friend's barbecue the night before last – my brother in law sent word, asking for my other half to go the hospice first thing in the morning. She took a change of clothes and a wash-bag with her.
After picking up the reins here, and “carrying on as per normal”, I eventually gathered our children back together from various sleepovers, and prepared their clothes and lunches for the beginning of an activity week this week called “Lighthouse”. Our eldest would be a helper this year, and the younger children would be pitched into a world of fun – singing, dancing, making things, cooking things, and so on.
And then the phone rang at about 10:40pm. Silence on the other end, followed by a very quiet voice;
“He's gone”.
I was immediately put in charge of letting the most important people know. I thought about using email, but almost immediately dismissed it because I don't have up-to-date addresses for everybody – so headed to Facebook. Say what you like about social networks, they have value when most people are a member of the same one...
I haven't told the children yet. I didn't want to ruin the first day of their activity week – I did let friends among the helpers know though. It's a very strange situation that you perhaps only have to work your way through a few times in your life- working out who to tell, how to tell them, and when to tell them. Even deciding an order becomes a somewhat important decision – “who would want to know first?”...
John had a huge influence on me, and on the children's lives. He was the classic “grandfather” -full of fantastical stories, ridiculous songs, awful jokes, and infinite wisdom about the most arcane subjects. He taught me to chop trees down with an axe, how to repair a shed roof, how to change taps, and so many other things. He had infinite patience teaching the children how to play cards, innumerable board games, and spent countless hours on the floor with them doing jigsaws over the years.
He was a quiet man – never the life and soul of the party – more the one worrying about everything nobody else had thought of. Always there with words of encouragement, and perhaps a battered crossword or Sudoku bookto help pass a few minutes.
He's going to be missed.