Annemarie:
Dad certainly was my hero, although Martin has been doing pretty heroic stuff too, driving at breakneck speed to get me back to Windhoek in time for my flight, then retracing his steps to get back to the journey, and continuing solo, no mean feat as you will have been able to tell from his recent tales of lions, dead hippos and mud!
My Dad’s picture here is of him in his early days in the RAF, then of him blowing out the candles on his 96th birthday. I was very relieved to get home to mum, she’s being so brave but it’s very hard. They had been married 62 years and she had been looking after him following a stroke for the last 20, more intensively over the last two. Stroke is so devastating but between them they managed miracles and I will always remember them both being such fun and so cheerful, despite huge adversity.
It’s been a real gift to be able to spend time with mum and look into their life together and Dad’s early days in more detail. We’ve discovered some new things as well as confirming some of the well-worn and loved stories about him. Everything from him passing his A level equivalents at 15 – French, German and English – quite a linguist from the outset, through to marvellous pictures of him out in what was Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, during the war years at RAF Thornhill. He was a great chorister, totally loved singing and would join a choir wherever he travelled. If there wasn’t one he set one up, which is what he did in Africa. They were broadcast on the radio too, to great acclaim, quite the Gareth Malone of his day!
The funeral was last Wednesday and my sister Carolyn and I spoke about him at the service, one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. For friends and family who are asking for a copy of the poem Carolyn wrote, I will try and upload a word doc later. If anyone feels moved to donate to the Stroke Association please do, www.stroke.org it’s a great charity, raising awareness of Stroke and how to cope and live well as a stroke survivor. And thanks to everyone who has already donated in Dad’s memory, really kind of you. We baked again of course, lots of dark cakes; Mum made Dad’s favourite: Dundee cake, I cooked up various scones and dark sticky gingerbread. Mum and I survived the last few weeks on regular coffee and cake sessions to keep us going. There’s always time for cake!
Now I’m on my way back to join Martin in Livingstone, Zambia. Mum was most insistent that we carry on but leaving her yesterday was perhaps the second hardest thing I’ve done recently. I think I want to look again at what we’re doing here in Africa and think about the purpose of our travels. Brushes with death make you reflect on the value of every day and what we’re here for.