I speak for all three of us when I say our love had no boundaries we would not have crossed for you, Dad. Between us all, it would be quite easy to write a book of tales about our dad and wrap them up into a lovely bow of fond memories. Ninety-three years, Dad, you had an incredible inning, something I know you were proud of; despite that, letting you go is one of the most challenging things we will do.
Our dad was a man of few words, so his reply to the question of Dad or Uncle Harry, why you are so quiet? - It will resonate with many of you in the room today. “Someone has to listen.”
Although a man of few words, he left us with important life lessons, and much could be said about him. I got to spend several years with Dad, initially when Mum passed away and when Guido and I got married and brought him with us to the UK. Being the extrovert in the family, Dad was accustomed to my clowning around and pushing the boundaries with him. Later in life, the father we thought to be an introvert surprised us on many occasions in the most fun ways, and Dad, you left us all with such beautiful memories that we will all cherish forever.
Dad, looking back, we had so many bellyaching, tear-jerking laughs. We will fondly recall your little laugh that can only be described as a chuckle, and over recent years, you developed negotiation skills that even MI6 would have been proud of when it came to the amount of food that was dished on your plate. Dad, you proved your love to us through your devotion and actions throughout our lives. Even though Mum did the heavy lifting regarding the household and helped to bring us up. You were very hands-on for someone of your generation.
On the weekend spent quality time with us and took us all to the park to play, where we also bought seeds for the pigeons, but you know what, even though we loved it, now that I cast my mind to it, I am not sure who loved feeding those pigeons more. Because even when he retired, and we travelled, Dad navigated to the pigeons, and we had to get him a bag of seeds so he could get a pack of seeds to feed for him, whether it was in St Marcos Square in Venice or Trafalgar Square in London. During those same weekends, he took us to watch the ships come in or sail out of the Durban harbour whilst we were spoilt with candy apples or candy floss.
He was a loving husband and father who adored my mum. He helped her as her sous chef on the weekends and helped with the grocery shopping. Dad was up at the crack of dawn creeping around our small flat, so none of us got up to leave by 5:45 am to travel to Pietermaritzburg to get to work to provide for us all. He loved his job, and I never heard him complain about work, or his routine, or indulge in gossip about anyone all my life. He discouraged this, finding the good in everyone.
My dad was my sounding board, not just when I was in a quandary and every big decision I was about to take. My dad meant the world to me; he and I were a package deal. I made that very clear to Guido on our 3rd date. He must have thought I was crazy. But Guido will tell you that we would not have been here today if I had not gotten my dad’s approval. Luckily, things worked out the way they did, and Dad was blessed with three beautiful sons-in-law who loved him dearly. His giving nature led him to write his monthly pension cheques to charity every month while living in the UK. He relished sitting at the dining room table, writing them out, and walking down to the post office to post them monthly. In whatever way he could, he wanted to help do his part to make a small corner of the world a better place.
Listening to the priest today, I realized that my dad led his life with no ego, which is incredibly rare in the society we live in; he was humble in all that he did, he loved his family and took care of my aunts, his even his aunts ensuring everyone was ok. He wanted to see the world a better place and personally to part in many projects to uplift the lives of others in India and Africa. Over the past few days, I have been thinking about this a lot, Dad. You gave so much of yourself, Dad, and you did it quietly and unassumingly. Thank you for everything you did, for all the love you gave us, for all the memories, for choosing us, for being you. I know you are serenading Mum to You Are My Sunshine under a tree or are dancing with her to the Foxtrot with a cheesy grin on your face right now. Nothing makes us happier, but know that you are forever edged in our hearts, and your teachings will live on in us for eternity.
Fly free, Daddy. Love always xx Rani xx
