It is now nearly July and the board and suit(s) have lain dormant for the whole of 2007 to date which even by my early surfing days is an unheard of length of time. Since last getting wet towards the end of October there has been plenty of reason though which, with the help of this long awaited post I'll hope to explain.

A week or so after that last surf at Sandilands, I picked up a combined knee/ankle injury playing rugby at Notts Moderns which prevented me playing (and surfing) for the best part of a month. IIRC there was little if any swell to trouble me bar one brief spell which Naips informed me about at the time. Either way, by the time I was fit again a predictable flat spell ensued.

Then, just before Christmas, I over extended the bicep in my right arm (playing rugby again) which once again rendered me out of action for another 3-4 weeks. There were also concerns brewing with both my parents who, both being in their 80's, is not unexpected if a tad self inflicted with typical stubbornness! Surfing was definitely on the back burner regardless by now.

As January drew to a close I gambled on my arm being fit and returned to playing once more, desperate for at least a bit of normality. Nearly half way through my comeback I went to make a routine tackle only for the arm to completely give way as the bicep ruptured big time!

This ended my season on the spot and made surfing a distant dream too for good measure until at least May. However since then the problems with my parents' health sadly went off the scale and has provided a distressing distraction.

Firstly Mum was admitted into hospital after another fall, although she was discharged some 8-9 days later. However, within a week of her return home, Dad was rushed in with numerous issues and meant Mum had to go into care on an emergency rating as her condition means more or less round the clock care. So there we were on Cup Final day with Dad in Grantham Hospital behind 'barrier nursing', and Mum in Stamford.

The first few days were a trial as Dad's condition peaked and troughed erratically; particularly 'upstairs' in the mind. Mum reassuringly settled quickly in to her new surrounds, although the implications of this move created stresses of their own with regards future plans for them both. On occasion, this manifested with a heightening of the PSP symptoms which had made hers and Dad's day to day situation at home reach nearly untenable levels. But for the most part she began to flourish and improve health wise. A special mention then to the staff at Priory Court in Stamford.

Moving into a 4th week in hospital though, and despite being well enough to move onto a ward proper, Dad's overall condition wasn't getting any better. His refusal or lack of interest towards food, drink or indeed any mental stimulation was becoming a real cause for concern. This wasn't made any easier by the fact that Mum and Dad hadn't seen each other since the day of separation, although for the most part neither had been in a state too. Plans were made to rectify this, but were reliant on Dad becoming well enough first.

This didn't happen, as at around 8.45pm on Weds 13th June he passed away quickly and peacefully, before even the ward nurses could ring my brother who lives nearby. Suz and me had intended getting over earlier that afternoon, but had had to put off till the next day; safe in the knowledge that someone had been to see him that day. Tell me we shouldn't be racked with guilt over that one!

In the days leading up to his funeral yesterday (Fri 22nd June), it was at least heartening to see the real 'Mum' show through her condition. Seeing her tearful and yet at the same time strong and resolved to grieve properly for Dad was a relief.

After a slight bureaucratic delay, we managed to get her to see Dad in the Chapel of Rest and begin the saying goodbye properly on Thursday. It was good to see him look 'better' again if you can excuse the irony in that statement, and I was surprised at my calmness.

Yesterday too went by well with a short service of remembrance at his and Mum's local village church in Colsterworth, before his Committal at Grantham Crem'. The calmness I'd felt more or less all along cracked finally as he was brought in with my youngest nephew Geoffrey (a gifted musician) playing the organ brilliantly. But with the support of Suz and Ben in particular I was able to compose myself enough to deliver a eulogy for him; the single most difficult thing I have ever had to do.

These are the words:

For those of you who may not know, I am Martin, Ron's youngest son (some would say the good looking one!)

People said this would be the most difficult time, and as the moment has drawn ever nearer towards bidding Dad au revoir, their advice echos ever louder inside my head.

But there is another voice prominent in amongst this chaos, whose calming tone and re-assurance, quietly reminds me of times passed by, when in younger days I needed steering through the usual angst associated with growing up.

It's not my voice, but the sound comes from my lips both verbally and silently in my mind. It's Dad's. A secret legacy that has crept up on me and meshed seamlessly with my own developed personality.

But then that was how Dad operated. Quietly. Patiently. And never with a raised voice or hand. That was Mum's Job!

Consequently, although I (and Mick) may not be perfect, we have at least arrived at a point where we know what is right and wrong, and how to respect others' feelings and needs and act accordingly. I guess a father can't really ask for more than that.

He lead a full life and, if never reaching a position to display his skills properly, he would have been content with his efforts when he finally retired from his final job as a moulding machine setter at Ilfords in Basildon after 20 years service with them in 1981.

Loyalty was everything to him as his long service to employers showed throughout his working life. More importantly though this was shown to his wife Jessie; Mum, to whom he was a devoted husband for just short of 64 years. Another fine role model example that Mick and I hope to emulate despite our futile attempts to wriggle free from Pam and Sue's clutches respectively!!

A creature of habit and reliability, each day, until quite recently, was a testament to the clockwork precision he used to make his life run as smoothly as possible. The alarm (rarely needed) - the breakfast things set out the night before - and most importantly, Mum's cup of tea in bed before beginning the day. Simple stuff, but effective and heaven help you if you disrupted things-as I did often when rising early on occasion to go fishing or such like! Sorry ;o)

But then he'd always see the funny side as a classic moment showed while on holiday in Westward Ho! in the mid 70's.

One morning, while Mum was doing 'Mum things' in the caravan we decided to wander down to the beach and explore the various rock pools that would be uncovered by the receding tide. Something we'd done many times before and had sufficient experience of to combat the often slippery and precarious nature of the reef at the south/west end of the beach.

We negotiated the initially stony part with the usual ease and made our way out further where the terrain gets that bit more challenging. Dad to his credit was keeping pace until, with my back to him, I hear the sounds of a footfall slipping and the thump as Dad having been launched by some sneaky seaweed into free fall, was left in an undignified heap on the edge of a particularly deep rock pool.

Silence on my part at first was followed by the obvious check to see if he's alright. He was. More silence before I can no longer contain myself, and I have to ask if it's OK to laugh...It was and we did; and have done ever since.

Interests included a passion for the sea and sailing, and for aviation too; although time and opportunity always seemed to prevent him from exploring either fully enough.

In retirement though there was some reward for his desire, namely with the assistance he gave to Cannon Lionel Webber at St Martin's in Basildon with the re-fit of his boat and some sailing time. An achievement he commemorated with a scale model of this vessel built from scratch. Dad and his models eh Mum?

The flight at Duxford in a de Havilland Dragon Rapide with his grandson Ben, courtesy of my old friend David Ward a few years back reduced him to babbling schoolboy, as Ben will testify. This experience far exceeded his only previous flying excursions in the rather less romantic surrounds of Boeing 757s to and from Alicante a few years before!

But then his needs were often secondary. The family were most important with his serving duties at the various churches he attended throughout his life, a close second.

His words to my just married wife Sue after our wedding still ranks up there with the best. At Carlisle Station just before his and mum's departure back home, his pleasure at having another daughter join the family was touching, emotive and so right for the moment. Sue will concur.

Typical of the man. Few words - always appropriate - and sensitive to the occasion. Wonder what he would have said today.

I'd like to think they'd share the sentiments of this poem by an unknown author:

God saw you were getting tired
A cure was not meant to be,
So he put his arms around you
And whispered come with me.

With broken hearts we loved you
As we heard you had passed away,
Although we love you deeply
We could not make you stay.

Your golden heart stopped beating
And your caring soul was put to rest,
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.

Sleep on Dad, you've earned it.

The focus on that first wave has now become that bit more special. Thank you for bearing with me.
posted by wollocks at 1:37 PM