My Dad

My Dad could do a million things or so it seemed to me,
With his big brickbuilder hands he held me on his knee.
He built a little caravan with windows and door
that I found upon my birthday when I was maybe four.
And as a child when I was sick with a tummy bug or cold
he’d bring tomato sandwiches, sliced thin to sooth my soul.

Looking back I realise that he stood steadfast and strong
Right at my side as I grew up to teach me right from wrong.
And through those years he worked at things that I never really knew,
In the RAF with radios, and on Concorde out from Bristol flew.

I’m sure he had a secret dream that I would follow his love,
Of Wagner’s epic Operas, Mahler and Rachmaninoff
One Christmas came a record player he built from scratch himself
But Glam Rock music was my thing – Marc Bolan the  sequined elf!

He turned his hands to many things as time sped up and on
He wrote, he built, he painted, he read and renovated
And all the while he was always there to put a wrong thing right
A Dad I could rely upon to help keep my goals in sight.

I think his biggest freedom came with planes he built to fly
Those giant hands of his made miniatures that soared into the sky
Each wing and turret carved with skill, the engines primed and ready
The radios on, the controls so fine -  ‘Steady! Derek Steady!’

My dad could do a million things, I know today it’s true
And though he’s left our lives and travelled past our view
I know that he is still with me, at my side he’ll always stay
Because of all those million things I am who I am today.

Thank you Dad!

My Dad could do a million things or so it seemed to me.  He wrote the music & lyrics for a song for my Mum before they were married, with multiple parts for different instruments.  He learned many trades and specialties from Bricklayer to Technical Writer and things in between that I don’t even know.
He could play the piano and organ (after a fashion), paint beautiful watercolour birds, and later war planes from WWII, loved classical music & Wagner’s epic Ring opera.  He completely renovated and rebuilt the house in Carleton Place, built and flew radio control planes and had a curious interest in unexplained archeaology, ufo’s and things not of this world.
Throughout it all he was the cornerstone of our family, a guiding light and rock that we could turn to in times of trouble.

The night my Dad passed away I had a dream that my Mum and I were standing outside a house, we were worried that the window was in really bad shape and were very upset.  Dad was there and he told us that no, the window was fine, that it was a good window.  There was a ringing in my dream that woke me – it was the phone and the hospital calling to let us know that Dad had passed.  I believe this was my Dad’s way of letting me know that it was ok, that this was just another step in his journey that he was taking.   He had used a metaphor for that had been such a big part of his life – building and construction.  Dad, we all miss you!