my dad

about 15 minutes after the previous post on this blog, on Easter Sunday, I received a phone-call.
My dad, Fred, had had a brain haemorrhage and the prognosis was not good.
Janet gave me (and Liz) a lift to Heathrow.
I asked at BMI what their next flight was. 8pm. They told me they'd hold a ticket for me so I could see if BA had a seat going on their 5.30pm flight. They did.
At Glasgow airport Lotty McD and Patrick C from Millerston U.F. church picked me up and too me straight to ward 43 athe the Royal Infirmary.
My dad was in room 4.
Mother was there, with Lotty's husband, Donald.
The ward sister explained things to me, answered questions honestly and openly, then took me in.
Later the senior doctor on the night-shift did the same.
My dad was on oxygen - breathing himself, but that was all.
Just a matter of waiting.

At 10.40pm there weren't any more breathing movements.
they'd been getting smaller & less frequent gradually over time.
The doctor pronounced him dead at 10.45pm
He died peacefully. We think he knew we were both there.

Both the relatives' rooms were occupied, so they took Mother & I into the nurses' office.
Their computer's login password was written on a post-it note, stuck on the book-rest next to the screen; madhouse7 (uppercase).
They had a little cream coloured telephone on the desk, which they let me use. I called Ralph Dunn the minister at mother's church. I also called Donald & Lotty. They came to pick us up.
Then I called Liz while mother went in to see dad once more.

I went in to see him after Mother had. They had taken out the oxygen tube. The white bow holding it in place and the big bulge low down on the right-hand side of his neck had gone. They'd turned on the lamp over his bed - facing the wall - and turned off the light.
He looked more like dad then.
I'd never seen anyone who was dead before. It didn't seem real really.

We've had
cards and cards &
flowers and flowers &
shortbread and shortbread &
homebaking and homebaking.

People have prayed
People have phoned
People have texted
People have emailed & PM-ed
People have visited
People have been wonderful.

God has been good - His hand on little things. He's made His presence obvious through those little things. Great is His faithfulness

Dad's funeral was yesterday, Thursday 31st March.
We had a service at the church, then a committal at Daldowie Crematorium

People came from the church - even though it was Mother, not dad who went there. He'd made things for them - including a little model of the church itself. Beautiful. Friends of mother & I came. Dad's mates from the Real Mackay pub came. Family came.
Ralph took the service.
His wife, Ann, played organ for the two hymns - I To The Hills Will Lift My Eyes and Eternal Father, Strong to Save.
I played along too.
I also did a mini-eulogy.
I'm glad I did. Dad would have liked hearing me play. He didn't hear me play very often.

At the crematorium, I played, on my own.
I played the coffin in (having gone with Ralph in his car, ahead of the cortege).
I played for the hymn - Great Is Thy Faithfulness, and for the singing of the Aaronic Blessing.
I played for people going out.
Improvised - free - for them bringing Dad in, and improvised on the Skye Boat Song for people going out.

Came back to London today, with Liz, who'd come up to the funeral, and had brought up my viola.
Thought I should tell you.
Strange. It all happened so fast. It's been less than a week.

My dad was a good man - a talented man.
Great with his hands.
Solid in his principles.
Generous with his talents.
He was a quiet man.
A traditional man.
A contemplative man.
An intelligent man - although he hadn't had much academic education.

He'll be missed.