My earliest
memories were bank holidays, when my usually serious father would be relaxed and happily bundle the family onto a train to get to a large park. There
we joined up with the extended families. All the fathers would organise a cricket or mock rounders game with the older children which Dad joined in
after the usual greetings to the mums group on the grass with the younger ones.
A few hours later, worn out from the unusual activity, the dads collapsed on the grass and enjoyed a snooze, leaving the older children to their own devices.
This meant, for my brother, finding muddy places to fall into. The men were prepared. Newspapers were offered and my brother got back on the train
clothed in the daily news.
I was just a toddler, and as we left the station, Dad looked down from his immense height and said, “Tired, Pet?” I would nod my head and raise my arms
to be swung up upon his shoulders, my hands around his neck. A new world opened for me, for my father was 6 ft 6, and I could look down on cars and
smiling faces of passersby instead of boots and shoes.
As I grew older, I was influenced by his character, particularly his love for music. He had a rich bass voice, so when I went to music college, I chose
the violoncello as my second instrument to capture those rich bass sounds.
He was a very very Christian man. Always on hand to be of assistance to others, he went out at night to check that everybody was okay during the War when
our town was bombed during frequent air-raids. He worked principally as a plumber by profession. If people were poor and couldn’t afford much, he gave
them help at a lower rate if he possibly could. He died visiting his son in Canada. He fell asleep on the sofa of my brother’s house having just sung
the 23rd Psalm quietly.
I hope this will encourage the joys of fatherhood in the minds of young men. Dad was a wonderful father, grandfather and husband to my mother.
Submitted by Sheila
Pictured: Sheila’s father with a grandson