For my dad

I wrote this the day we buried my dad and I want it kept


I remember as a child when we would misbehave my mother would try her best to maintain order with threats of a lashing from the jug or iron chord, but when things got too much for her she would throw out the standard threat: "wait until your father gets home". I don't know if I have ever told you lot this, but I was never spanked as a child. I think that is mostly because my granddad (an asshole) would beat him so him and mum didn't take that path with us. We were disciplined in other ways. We did, however, always sort ourselves out with the threat of Dad coming in the door, but I reckon she was talking about a different bloke because the bloke who came home never beat us. He sometimes made chocolate frogs or twenty cent coins appear from our ears though.

My Dad could fix anything and it was usually up to him to sort out any maintenance work, usually with me and my brother in tow. Which sometimes included new electrical outlets and whenever one of these stopped working for whatever reason mum would insist that us kids were not to touch it and if anyone in the house was to be electrocuted that day it would be Dad.

In about 1979 my mum purchased a suit for Dad to go to some wedding - that was back in the day when it was okay to say on the invite that kids weren't allowed to come and ruin the day. I think it was one of the only ones my folks attended under those rules, and after that my mum would say that if her kids weren't good enough to attend, nor were her and Dad. The navy blue suit came from an opp shop (thrift shop some may call it) and it cost her a whole $5. A lot of money back in those days considering you could get a huge bag of mixed lollies for 5 cents. I can tell you that the suit would still fetch $5 in any opp shop today. The only other suit my Dad owned was a safari suit, which was quickly discarded because the navy blue suit was real flash.
The navy blue suit had a lovely tie that went with it and on the bottom of that tie was a yacht. Dad was not a yachtsman but it went with the suit and came from the same shop.
That suit and tie along with a pale blue shirt attended every wedding and funeral associated with this family. Even when one of my sisters was married and insisted on white tuxedos for the wedding party, my Dad wore his blue suit. My sister was livid. We all thought it was funny.
When I was married I offered to buy Dad a new suit - brand new, but he insisted there was nothing wrong with the suit he owned and he wore that.
The last funeral Dad wore his suit to was his own. We dressed him in the navy suit, the pale blue shirt and the blue tie with the yacht at the bottom. He could have been a yachtsman if he wanted. He had the tie. When we were done dressing Dad in his best, only, and favourite suit, my mum took me in one arm and my sister in the other and told us that he was the love of her life and still as handsome as the day they met. She also told us the only good thing to come from this was burying 'that fucking ugly suit'.

It was a privilege for me to help with dressing Dad, and sharing that with mum and my sister was oddly bonding. We laughed, we cried, we remembered a top dad, man, and friend.

Dad smoked Marlboro red, was constantly singing some awful country song, he loved the Trinity Brothers movies - but who doesn't love a fart joke, he could burp-speak and burp the alphabet, he could sound the alphabet in about 2 seconds (it's harder than you think), he was kind, fair, firm, a great dad, a great man, and a mate.


Today we said goodbye to my dad.



And a quick tip for those who dabble in the stock market. Now Dad has passed the Brylcream factory will probably cut production in half, so sell your stocks. The man supported that company for over 70 years they could have at least sent some flowers ... some greasy flowers.

RIP Dad, you will be forever in my heart.