A tribute to dad

Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad.  Anne Geddes

My Memories of Dad 

• His wonderful (and often naughty) sense of humour.
• The way his eyes sparkled while telling a funny story.
• His green eyes (the same shade as mine).
• Patting mum's behind when they hugged.
• Calling mum "didums".
• His excitement when he completed his first big locomotive.
• Going round and round the track on his train.
• His steam train hat and the train pins.
• Often laughing so much at his own jokes that he would start coughing.
• Holidays to Eight Bells (and the crack of dawn starts).
• The trip to Knysna and the Swartberg pass.
• Telling me the dead cockroach I found in my bed at Knysna was a bed bug (I'll never forgive him!)
• Camping at Uilenskraal (big breakfast fry ups, walking round the caravan park at night).
• Teaching me to fish and to tie on hooks and sinkers.
• Sharing a canoo for 5 days on the Orange River and capsizing on the rapid.
• SA trip to Zululand (Umfolozi and Mkuzi wild life parks).
• His video recorder - and the "train videos" he made.
• Our family holiday to Mauritious.
• Visiting Uncle Stan at Melkbos.
• His love of visiting gran and gramps for his 11 am whisky.
• His very soft spot for gran and gramps.
• Gramps trimming dad's beard.
• His red beetle and old Variant.
• Helping dad to carry his locomotive to his car.
• His hip shirts.
• Trying to encourage me to drink beer, not cider (a girl's drink!)
• His soft spot for Julian and helping him with his engineering project.
• Working on his trains and lathes in the outside room.
• His beautiful steam engines.
• His generosity.
• The steam club - especially Jimmy and Derek.
• His wonderful speech at Julian's 21st.
• Visiting Stan in Melkbos for a braai.
• His special relationship with Uncle Jimmy and Derek.
• The Viste Nova fete.
• Picking us up in the variant and the red beetle (and being told by Jo to hide round the corner. so her school friends would not see her).
• Falling asleep on the couch watching TV.
• Our saturday night family TV (Magnum PI,A Team) with coffee and chocolate.
• Listening to classics with a beat and "Pomp and Circumstance" on long car journeys.
• His love of classical music and his music system.
• Braaiing meat on "the barrel" and starting fires with petrol.
• Introducing me to his favourite childhood book about the blind lumberjack and his dog (title unknown).
• Buying Lima trains with me - both equally excited.
• Burping after a beer.
• Family camping with the big tent.
• Putting up our tree house in the garden.
• Taking me to the St Georges cathedral to get my matric marks.
• His stamp collection.
• Combing his hair in car before leaving the beach (much to the chagrin of people wanting his parking spot!)
• His love of books on history and "The World at War" series.
• His chain-saw and chopping down our big tree (and how he hurt his goolies when he slipped)
• San marco icecream and walks at Sea Point - and going on the "choo choo" train.
• Videoing us opening our presents at Xmas.
• Helping us wash up (mum washed, I dried and handed to dad, dad handed to Jo, and Jo put away!) 
• Sleeping out on the patio (I tripped over him at 5 am in the morning after a party but he did not wake up).
• His pride in his (once very high tech) music system.
• His mountain bike (not used much!).
• Making Tina widdle with excitement by opening his arms in greeting.
• Swimming in the pool.
• His love of surfing at Muizenberg.
• Lazing on Boulders beach and St James.
• His love of "Finance Week".
• His expletive: "Jesus Crept".
• His old camera (a veritable dinosaur!)
• His squirrel ways (and the resultant cluttered maid's room).
• Throwing the ball for Tina and Meg and shining the torch for Tina to catch.
• Cleaning the dogs with "Dermadeath".
• "Servicing his car in the driveway.
• His love of chocolate ginger.
• Taking one of my teeth out in his workshop.

Excerpt from a letter written to Dad, 4 months after his death

Dad, I never told you that I loved you but I did. That always seems to be the most tragic of regrets, doesn't it? I loved you for never forcing me to follow a line - you always let me be what I wanted; to follow my own path. I loved you for taking me on camps when I was little; for the fishing and those delicious camp meals you cooked us. Sometimes the love was so much, my heart would swell and my eyes would tear.

I loved it when you and I would go on our drives across the country to Knysna and Zululand - our so called "Trips for the Boys." We had some real chats during those times. And, Dad, I loved your sense of humour, the jokes you told, the way your eyes would sparkle, and you'de laugh so much you'd start coughing. You were so much fun when you were in your funny mood!

I loved you at Xmas when you'd video tape us - I'm going to cherish those videos of you and us for the rest of my life. They symbolise all that was good about our family. It was always great knowing that you and mum were there to call whenever we wanted. You were always there when we needed you. You were also so generous with your time, it was one of the reasons that I knew how much you loved Jo and I. And you were such a gentle person.

What I'm trying to tell you, dad, is that I loved you - love you - for the person you were and the father you were and the things you did, and it hurts like hell you'll never hear that. There will always be a big part of you in me, dad, in so many respects. I am like you in many ways and in some respects I am different - but just about everything I am has been influenced by you - and you'll be with me for the rest of my life.

Dad as a boy

Dad as a teenager

Meeting mum on the ship from UK to South Africa, getting engaged and getting married

Pictures of Dad with the family

Pictures of Dad and me

He loved throwing the ball for Tina

Surfing the waves at Muizenberg on his polystyrene board

Having his beard trimmed by Gramps. A wonderful excuse to drop by for a 11 o clock whisky

At my graduation

And of course, he adored his trains

Related posts 

• Dad and his amazing trains
• All posts labelled "dad"
• Mum and dad's wedding
• Photos of dad