It’s about three years since my Dad passed away on August 17th 2010. Yesterday was my fourth Father’s Day without him in the world. I seemed to feel the loss more keenly though this year. I put it down to the shipment of my assorted possessions that had been in our family home for yonks; but who knows? That is a mystery of grief I guess.
In the picture he is about to take a flight in a Royal Australian Air Force PC9 trainer. It was to celebrate his retirement from one of the great passions of his life – aviation weather forecasting. His other great love was cricket.
One of the assorted possessions was a drawing of a black thoroughbred. The picture isn’t any great shakes – it’s one I drew – but it has a frame. Dad made a beautiful frame for a picture I’d drawn. He was good at making picture frames, he made them with love. Here is a poem with a couple of memories I have of my Dad.
Zooming along the road
little blue fiat, full volume Rodrigo Concierto de Aranjuez
warm spring sunshine
squeezing past leaves
two parts sand, three parts gravel,
in with the water, then the grey powder
mix with the spade
shriek with delight
at the sounds and the squidgy
listening wide eyed
Perseus, Hercules and Jason
monsters and heroes,
endless questions and patient answers
cumulus, cirrus, stratus and nimbus
streaks, puffs and marshmallows
and every one with a name and altitude
that my Dad knew
linseed oil and yellow powder
warm on the nose
colours old and new
deliberate strokes shared insight to beauty