After having quietly celebrated my dads birthday just four days previously (as he was in hospital at the time), on a morning thirty-one years ago, I got the phonecall all sons and daughters dread. I was having breakfast at my college digs at the time - just another ordinary day. My mother told that dad had died during the night, the result of having, effectively, five coronaries one after the other. Thankfully, he had slipped into a coma before it had happened - hospital staff had tried their best but eventually decided it would be better to let him go. I was only twenty at the time, and was only just getting to know him properly. The following week was a bit of a blur, and I dont remember much about what went on. His death hit me harder than I had been expecting - my college studies suffered, and I sank into a funk. Its true what they say: you only know what you have when its no longer there. After this, mum and I became closer, although our relationship was still rocky at times. The ironic thing is that its taken me a long time to realise just how much my father had influenced me, and that, until recently, I had never really acknowledged my debt to him. There are very few words I possess which can fully encapsulate what I would like to say, nevertheless I know that wherever he is now hell understand my feelings despite my inability to articulate them. In my turn, I have tried to be a good husband and stepfather, in the same way that my father had been. I feel that that is the only proper way to honour the memory of the man who gave so much to me. And, in time, when I have grandchildren, I shall take on that role in the same way. In the recesses of my mind and heart I will keep those promises safe. Thank you, dad - may you and mum have the peace you so richly earned. RIP Stanley Jones 1920 - 1983.
Posted on: Mon, 14 Apr 2014 08:42:05 +0000
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