On the 21 July 2017 my dear father passed away.
Fuck!!!! How do I even begin to write this?
By visually getting this out of my head and putting it out there is my way of trying to come to terms with his passing.
My father was the sort of man you could go to about anything. There was never any judgement for the decisions I have made throughout my life and he always supported what I wanted to do. This allowed me to feel secure and that I could relay on him 100%. He’d pick me up from work as a teenager at a coffee shop at 11.30pm at night or a party at 2am. He worked from home so if it was raining he’d be able to drop us off at school and pick us up and he enjoyed making sure we had our school lunch organized. He worked hard, sometimes too hard to support my mum, little sister and I, this is something I strongly admire and I knew he loved us enormously.
He gave me my camera!!!!! The same one I use for ‘Mums in Real Life’. After I was inspired by his photography but didn’t know what I wanted to do or be and he just said “Well it’s just a stepping stone onto something else”.
He was funny, fuck he was so hilarious, like wees in pants, belly aching, can’t smile it hurts funny.
I will miss your laughs the most Papa…. and your full embraced hugs, your smart shirts and jeans – even if it was the middle of summer and on the beach, and that cheeky grin, and your ability to defuse and situation by pure humor, the way you’d smell fresh air and look at light on the horizon and cloud formations, listening to how you cooked fish with loads of lemon and garlic or that your created this new curry – adding a bit more yoghurt here or cayenne paper there, mmm delish. Your enthusiasm for how ridiculous the world is run, your strong sense of justice and your caring, loving nature that had a desire for mankind to sort their shit out together rather than battle against each other.
He was incredibly talented and he was humble about it. From a young age he was made to play the piano by his Italian mother, he was a great musician! I remember waking up as a kid hearing him belt out some magical tunes. And it’s music that really touches your soul. If I revisit his music now it takes me right back. This is some of his music here
He was an artist. A love for landscapes – where the sea, sky, light, reflections meet. I asked him recently if there was something he’d wished he done in his life…..
“Start painting earlier and not to worry about the government so much, if you have a creative outright you will be ok”.
See his paintings and full website here
4 years ago he had his first major cardiac arrest, he was playing his guitar in his band and collapsed, they worked on him for 15 minutes. He told me he felt warm, cosy and knew there was nothing to fear about death as he then found himself in this transit space many times. He said “It feels like I’m going home and it feels great and we shouldn’t worry about dying”. He started to have more frequent cardiac arrests so 2.5 years ago they gave him a defibrillator which was put his chest and rebooted him so many times I’ve lost count.
In June 2017 he had another “knock out”. He went to hospital. Got a blood infection. Was flown a week later from Dunedin to Christchurch in a medical plane to have laser on his heart. After a week in Christchurch he spent another week in Dunedin hospital. So after 3 or so weeks in a hospital bed he totally craved his own bed. He asked to be released and was able to enjoy his bed for 2 weeks. Then, he had about 12 “knock outs” in 1 day and the doctors said “Yip get your family here”.
When my sister and I arrived, we held hands with him and Mum and he said “Well family”. We all just looked at each other and sobbed. That trip I spent 2 nights in hospital with him. I will forever hold that time him close to me. It was like at the other end of life, me caring for him – getting him a flannel to wash his hands with or help him get into bed, just like he’d done for me in those early years so many times. It was so hard seeing him struggle, being stabbed with needles, not knowing what he wanted to eat (and he normally was quite the foodie), sleeping in and out of conversations, endless amounts of pain, constantly being monitored, wires everywhere and all the while he concerned that I wouldn’t be comfortable enough on the bed whilst he took the lazy boy for the night. That’s the kind of person he was, at his lowest he was still thinking about my needs. What a bloody great Dad, what a bloody great human being!!!
It was during this trip that I asked him what would you like me to tell the boys (his only grandchildren, my kids aged 3.5 and almost 6 years old) and he said….
“Live life with fun”
So that’s exactly what we’re going to do for you Dad, we will live an extraordinary life in your honor.
His blood pressure stabilized for a bit and I headed home but once home I know I had to get back down after 2 nights. I continuously struggled with being here, feeling so overwhelmed, stressed and incredibly anxious and then being there and missing the boys who had been sick with chickenpox. I had to remind myself that I could only do so much and physically could not be in two places at once.
On one trip down, just 10 mins before we (me and my family) arrived at the hospital my sister let me know that he was now in isolation and we had to wear yellow gowns and purple gloves. My oldest had just had chickenpox so there was no way he was able be in contact with Dad. The boys waved to him from the window which was heartbreaking. I spent 1 night that trip, the last trip I’d see him alive, sleeping next to him in a yellow minion gown and purple sweaty gloves. I remember waking to hear a nurse asking him who I was, “my daughter” he quietly replied and she went on to say how much I must love him because it was rare to see family members actually staying the night.
When I left that morning, I kissed him on his forehead and said goodbye and he slowly lifted his head and said goodbye and opened his eyes to look at me but he was desperate for sleep so I let him sleep and as I walked away I felt so torn just walking away but as he’d said to me a few weeks prior “I could die when your in the hospital lift or just left the room for a pee or down the road” and with those words both us knew I had to somehow keep my family and life above water, he more than understood that, he encouraged me to stick by my husband and kids in times of hardship because that’s exactly what he would have done himself.
I spoke to him on Thursday… he could only manage a few sentences but I’ll be forever grateful that my Mum phoned me that day and passed it to him.
Early Friday morning he left. Gone. Eerrrm ok bye dad.
It was the storm day here in Christchurch and I spent 40 minutes in the plane on the tarmac only to be told the flight was canceled. I was beyond overwhelmed, I desperately wanted to be there with Mum, oh Mum! I flew the next day first thing with my sister who had come from Melbourne.
I had been mentally preparing myself for his departure for years now, constantly on high alert and in a sort of panic every time my precious mother called, sorry Mum. I feel somewhat at peace that he not struggling anymore because boy did he put up a fight to remain on this planet, he never did anything half hearted that’s for sure.
I Love you so much Papa – you were a “Bloody brilliant” Dad and I will miss you always
I will see you were the sea meets the sky
Thank you to everyone who made his day that bit brighter in his final weeks, for everyones help with his farewell and for supporting Mum, my sister and I not only now but for years to come.
Rocket + Goldie 