My Beloved Father

Just after midnight 2nd November, I lost my wonderful father, George aged 95. Strong, brave and dependable, he was a protector of his wife Veronica (aged 98) and three daughters all his life. No one and nothing would ever be allowed to hurt his family.

Born and raised in India, he was self taught and fluent in Hindi, Urdu and even had quite a knowledge of Arabic having worked in Saudi Arabia for many years.

Joining the Burma Force at age 16 after pretending he was two years older, he later joined the British Army and was in the Royal Artillery on moving to England where he met our mother and married her at age eighteen.

They have been married for seventy five years losing three daughters; one just after birth in the 1960’s and two more daughters in the last couple of years. Mum and I are all that’s left.

An incredible athlete who threw the javelin, ran, hurdled and long jumped for his country winning medals and cups galore, a skilled hockey player, excellent artist, carpenter and storyteller, there was nothing dad couldn’t turn his hand to. Everything he touched he excelled in. Our gardens are filled with bird tables, wishing wells and windmills all made by him.

His stories of life in India were thrilling to hear with talk of  tigers, telling us how he also climbed quite a lot of Mount Everest when living nearby and many other escapades showing what an exciting and very varied childhood he had.

As little children, dad used to draw cartoons and make up stories to tell us using all the pictures he’d drawn for the purpose. He coached us all in athletics, where all three girls also excelled breaking many records, taught us how to repair cars and fiddle around in car engines in case we ever broke down when alone and so much more.

There is far too much I could write and tell about my dad, but I’d be here for ever and it would be a book. Having dementia in the last three years was hard to watch, but he amazingly still knew who mum and I were till the very end. It was an honour to spend each day with him over those years trying to help him in his care home and an even bigger honour to spend every day (and all night) with him in his last days and hours on this earth.

A very Christian man with a deep belief in God, he died on what is known as All Souls Day. November is the month of the Holy Souls where we remember all those people who have died before us and who had faith and belief in God and His heavenly kingdom. What a better day to leave this world for a much better one where I have no doubt he will now be receiving his much deserved rewards.

My heart is breaking. Having lost both my sisters in the last couple of years and now my beloved father, life is a very different place than it used to be. How lucky am I though –  as are my mother, my daughter and all his grandchildren and great grandchildren – that we had him for so long and have such amazing memories to carry with us for the rest of our lives.

Dearest dad, thank you for everything you gave and taught us. You were and are an inspiration to me and so many people. Thank you for always believing in me when others didn’t. May God bless you and keep you in His safe keeping where you will now never suffer again. I love you dad, we all do and always will.

Until we meet again, much love always and forever, your devoted daughter, Lorraine xxxxxx