A Fine Farewell.

While the death of my father remains the preeminent thought amongst all my daily thoughts, I'll concede that a blog about one's father passing away is not exactly light reading.

In the interests of switching your (and my) attention forthwith to a happier date approaching in April, I'll bring the online mourning to a close by sharing with you a little of the day on which we bade farewell to my dad.

The funeral was....well....tough, of course, but good (we didn't mess it up). Several of Dad's old friends told me they "had a great time!" at the wake, which I suppose is what's supposed to happen, and the attendance of many old friends, neighbors and family was genuinely heartwarming on a difficult day. 

When the clinking of wine glasses and scoffing of one-inch-square treats was over, we went back to St. Margaret's Bay, where my brother lives. There we ended dad's funeral day with a bagpiper playing by candlelight upon the platform at the end of Ron's cliff-top garden overlooking the Straits of Dover.

A good end, you might say.

If you'd like to know a little more about my dad, I'm attaching below my speech from the funeral service.

When I started to put pen to paper for today, I wondered out loud: “What do I say, Dad? What should I put in the speech about your life?” And I smiled as I imagined him saying: “Oh, nothing fancy Dave. Don’t make a fuss.”

I think everyone would agree that that was how Dad lived his life. No fuss. But you know, I think Dad’s life was full of surprises. Some of them I found out about over the years. Some I heard about since he passed away. More of his best stories and adventures may be lost with him unless we can persuade Dad’s best friend John to take a drink with us later.

As mum said, Dad was a private man, but one-by-one his stories did leak out over the years. Some years ago, Dad and John went to Australia to visit Dad’s sister, Helen. They stopped over in Singapore for a few days and when they got back Dad told me about it. “I can’t believe how much Orchard road has changed in 50 years” he said. That’s how I found out about the years he spent in Singapore as a boy. Back in 1995, I told Dad I was planning a trip to India. As casually as you like, he shot back “I spent some time in India. I spent days trapped in a house with a tiger circling us.” “Wow!” I said, “Where was that?” Bareilly near Lucknow, he said. I checked the map. “Dad, those cities are more than 700 miles from the sea! What were you doing there?” He just smiled. I’m not sure how he escaped that tiger but I know that by age of sixteen he was back in Edinburgh playing football with John Thain.

It was on a trip to Edinburgh in 1992 that I first met Dad’s lifelong friend John. I felt like I was taking a trip back in time when I joined Dad, John and some of Dad’s old friends in Tamsons Bar on Easter Road. It was obvious then that his friends cared a lot about him. Dad’s Edinburgh friends apparently still meet every other Thursday and last week Rab, as they knew him, was the topic of a lot of the conversation. When I called Helen to offer my condolences, we got to talking about Dad’s youth in Edinburgh. She told me Dad had taken John under his wing when they were boys. “Don’t talk to me when I’m playing with John Thain!” he used to tell his mother and sister, obviously keen not to seem like girls could tell him what to do when he was with his pal.

It was during that trip to Edinburgh that Dad and I had one of the greatest nights of our lives. Dad supported Hearts and so naturally so did I despite barely setting foot in Edinburgh my whole life. It was a coincidence that Hearts were playing against Slavia Prague in the UEFA Cup we were in Edinburgh. John managed to get us some tickets and we all went to Tynecastle together. There was a terrific atmosphere. John gave me his scarf that night and I still have it, John. Hearts looked like they would lose the match until Glynn Snodin thumped in a last minute goal from 40 yards to win it for Hearts. 20,000 fans celebrated, waving scarves above their heads and singing H-E-A-R-T-S. I think I was singing louder than anyone. It was like a dream come true to watch a big Hearts game with my dad.

As you’ve already heard, football and travel formed strong bonds between Dad and me. In 1998 we traveled together again, only a bit further afield this time, to New York.

John, sadly you weren’t well enough to travel at the time. I was sorry you missed it but I’ll forever be grateful for the crazy week Dad and I spent together in Manhattan. We walked miles and did everything; the Intrepid aircraft carrier, Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Center, Wall Street, a baseball game. And at night we kept going too.

One night I persuaded Dad we should go to the Apollo Theater in Harlem to see the famous Saturday night talent show. In those days Harlem was still quite dangerous and I think Dad must have wondered what on earth I’d got him into. Dad and I and two Swedish tourists were the only white people among the 2000 youngster there, but we had a great time for the 20 minutes we stayed! Another night I persuaded Dad to go to a little jazz club in Greenwich Village called Sweet Basil. We saw a beautiful black girl singing there that night. “Just like Dinah Washington or Billie holiday” Dad leaned over and said to me as we sat at a little table in dark corner of the bar. And that’s when I learned he loved jazz singers and especially Dinah Washington.

Nine years later, when Emma and I were trying to find the perfect song for her to walk down the aisle to at our wedding, the choice was easy. Emma walked down the aisle to Dinah Washington singing “What a difference a day makes”…and Dad was there to enjoy it.

Even though I exhausted him on that trip, Dad never complained. At the top of the World Trade Center – 110 stories above Manhattan – I said: “Dad, why are you standing so far from the windows?” “I’m afraid of heights”, he answered, but not before we’d stood in line for an hour and paid our entrance fee. He didn’t want to spoil the visit for me. That was typical of dad: easy going.

And he always took a lot of pleasure from the simple things in life, like cooking me scrambled eggs for breakfast on the many occasions I would stay with him. Mum, you always had a more comfortable bed for me to stay in, but you couldn’t cook me scrambled eggs like my father!

I think Dad had one of the happiest times of his later life on another trip to America; the one he made to San Francisco when Emma and I were married. He never stopped talking about the great night he, uncle Ton, and my father-and-mother-in-law David and Ann had a great meal in Chinatown. Chinese food was Dad’s favorite. Afterwards they polished off a bottle of whiskey in your hotel room, David. For a boy from Iona Street, eating Chinese food in San Francisco and having a wee dram within walking distance of the Golden Gate Bridge must have seemed like a pretty good dream.

My first living memory is of being held in dad’s arms as an infant, watching a brilliant red and orange sunset over the farmlands at the back of the flat where I was born in Capelle aan den Ijssel. In the eight years that I’ve been living in San Francisco, one of Emma and my favorite places to watch the sunset has been a stretch of beach called Crissy Field. From there, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge spanning from San Francisco’s Presidio across the water to Marin County When I get back home, Emma and I will be scattering some of Dad’s ashes on that beach. And when the time comes for me to hold my son in my arms and show him his first San Francisco sunset, Emma and I will be thinking of you, Dad.

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you again for showing your respects for Dad today. To conclude the ceremony we’re going to listen to a song by Dinah Washington: “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye.”

Comments

[Grannys ramblings]

What a beautiful eulogy Dave and what lovely memories you have. My father died suddenly 25 years ago, but I am still meeting unexpectedly with people who knew him, even though we live far from my hometown. They all have extra memories of him and it makes me so proud of one who would have thought himself an "ordinary man"

[David]

Thanks Granny. I'm certainly looking forward to spending time with his sister in Australia next year...for all the same reasons...there are lots of stories left to be told, I'm sure.