In memory of Dad…

As Les and I got older and all the friends spent most of their time at our house, Dad built a games room and then

became the pro at darts and pool. The friends then kept visiting just to play with Dad and he enjoyed the challenge.

Some days did get to him a bit as he was heard arriving home after probably a hectic day at work, threatening to

charge everyone parking fees as he couldn't park his car in his own driveway......But then the challenge was on again

and he forgot about the parking issue until the next games night.

As children get older, their focus naturally turns to all the schoolwork and struggling with growing up and all of life's

challenges and parents take a back seat. We need them there for their love and support, but the focus is on just

getting through a day at school and in this process we "lose" your parents for a while. It's a natural process, but looking

back now it seems sad that I had to lose focus on my Dad and all the events and memories that happened during

those teenage years. I know my own kiddies will do the same, it's natural, but in hindsight I still wish I had focused

more on my family.

Then of course, I enrolled to do a BSc in Afrikaans at Stellenbosch and became more and more sidetracked with

trying to cope with that and half way through my studies my Dad was gone.

After that we didn't have a relationship except for a short period about 6 years ago. That short period produced my

favourite memory of my Dad. It was the day after Aidan was born, Dad and Catherine drove to the hospital, Dad

walked in, took Aidan from me and held him in his hands, smiled and then spent an entire hour sitting in a chair holding

Aidan, just looking at him and not saying much at all. I will always remember every second of that hour - that and of

course the fact that Dad brought with him Aidan's very first outdoor camouflage outfit.

Dad never got to meet my daughter, Caleigh.

If he had, I know he would have found her as adorable as we do and I have no doubt that she would have had him

wrapped around her little finger in no time. He would have loved Aidan too who is growing up so fast and has become

a loving, caring little boy, always looking out for someone else, making sure everyone else is happy before he carries

on with his own things. When I told Aidan my Dad had passed away he looked at me and didn't say a word. There was

only concern for me in his eyes as he walked away. He went to school and told his teacher his Mum's Dad had died

and the teacher told him that his Mum's Dad was his Grandfather. My little boy came home and cried and cried. He

had unconditionally accepted Dad as his Grandpa and mourned the loss of an important family figure and a

grandfather-grandson relationship he would never know.

Dad, I am hoping that you will join me in spirit to watch the odd rugby game and ballet recital or just pop in every

now and again to watch their funny little antics and perhaps have a laugh with us as they go about their growing up.

MY DAD

A man that made an impression on strangers and friends.

Quiet but firm and even more stern.

Strength and courage I have learned from you, but being without you is hard to do.

A man with pride in every step he made.

A man with vigor in every phrase.

The tears I've shed cannot surpass the smiles and the laughs we had with you.

To feel your pain I could not do, to feel your joy I cannot explain, but being without is hard to do.

A man with pride in every step he made.

A man with vigor in every phrase.

A man that defined the word grand as only a real man can.

To know you're in a better place soothes my pain.

Knowing you're watching over us makes me sane.

A man with pride in every step he made.

A man with vigor in every phrase.

A true story of a real man, who in the end held his family close to him as only a real man can.

My father, a man with poise.

You were a husband, father, uncle, cousin, grandfather, friend, and the epitome of a real man.

You will be missed.

Michelle ‘Morz’ Stanvliet, Cape Town 2007

IN YOUR WORDS