Every year, around this time I think of my Father.
He died May 30, 1973. An intoxicated pilot drove their helicopter into an ice field in the NWT.
I was 10.
I think of him almost everyday, but this time of the year I get very nostalgic for this man.
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My 36 year old mother now had six children to raise, all under the age of 13.
Yes indeed folks, I could write a book.
It was a hot May. I remember the day my Mom gathered us all together and told us the news.
I have seen my Mom cry all of two or three times in my lifetime, and that day was one of them.
I have seen my Mom cry all of two or three times in my lifetime, and that day was one of them.
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| the summer before he died |
For days, and for years, I remember the sympathetic looks I received. The other kids would look at me as that poor little kid who's father just died. Adults approaching me and offering me their condolences, and at the age of 10 I did not even know what the word meant.
One warm afternoon, a few days after learning the news of my Dad, I was sitting outside, a clergyman was to visit our home that day. I knew he was coming, but he was really coming to visit Mom.
As he was approaching our house, he paused long enough to say to me,
"God is with you child and he will always watch over you"
As an adult now, I understand what his words meant, but as a child, these words frightened me.
I thought, if God took my father, will he take my mother as well?
Armed with this new thought, I stayed very close to my mother.
He had my Dad, there was not a chance he was taking her as well.
So I stayed vigilantly close to her. Day and night.
So I stayed vigilantly close to her. Day and night.
While she cooked meals, I sat at the kitchen table.....I did nothing, just sat there.
Walked with her to the store. Stayed beside her as she did her grocery shopping.
Stood beside her while she was on the phone. I remember even walking to work with her and then walking back home again by myself (we lived close to her work).
I even went with her to the Lawyers office to discuss my Dad's estate. She however, did not let me sit in with that, so I waited patiently in the front lobby.
I followed her everywhere she went, I was her shadow.
When I look back now I do believe she understood what I was going through.
Bless her heart, not once did she say a word to me about it.
I was her shadow and she let me tag along with her. Simple as that.
About a week later, the same preacher man came to our door with a box full of food.
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| a few years ago |
About a week later, the same preacher man came to our door with a box full of food.
My Mom, full of pride, bravely told him she did not take charity.
There I was beside her. All the while not saying a word, keeping my eyes lowered, staring at clergyman's buttons on his black coat.
When he said to her, that it was not charity, but the parishioners in the Church felt so bad about what was happening to our family, they needed to do something. Their hearts were saddened by this tragedy.
At that point, I got it. I understood that need.
I looked up at Mom and she looked down at her little shadow and said she would be glad to take it.
I finally found some peace.
Maybe God was watching over us after all, but in a good way.
It's funny what you remember. Long after clergyman left, as we were going through that box, there was a turkey.
I said to Mom, I thought it funny to have a turkey when it wasn't even Christmas or Thanksgiving.
She and I just laughed, but agreed that we both like turkey and couldn't wait to cook it up!
I said to Mom, I thought it funny to have a turkey when it wasn't even Christmas or Thanksgiving.
She and I just laughed, but agreed that we both like turkey and couldn't wait to cook it up!
To this day, for whatever reason, I still need to know exactly what is going on in my Mother's life.
I guess I will always be her shadow.
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| My son, myself and Mom. My son looks like his Grandfatherl |
I never know whether I should post these kinds of memories.
But I have always looked at my Blog as my own personal journal.
Such a useless death. For 40 years I have been deprived of him.
I have never wanted my Father to have died in vein, so I will gladly share my stories of him with whomever wishes to read it.
I have never wanted my Father to have died in vein, so I will gladly share my stories of him with whomever wishes to read it.
Whether it is one person or 30,000.
But believe this, things do happen for a reason. Maybe someone indeed is watching out for us.
Whether it is our Heavenly Father, angels amongst us or simply the people in our neighbourhood.
Love you Dad, love you Mom
Diane
Diane
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
