June, Kuwait - Dear Dad -A farewell and end of the first chapter of my life

July 13, This last year has been a roller coaster of emotion and travel back and forth to NZ to spend time with my dying Dad and to help care for him.

Dad and I discussed many times whether I would return to NZ and several times over the last year we said our final goodbyes. In his last week I had moments where I wanted to be with him and the family. As an expat, it's a familiar and painful self-conversation at times like this;- should I go? could I help now? would he even know I was there? was that important? would I even get there in time?

In the end, I honoured Dad and the agreement we made when we made our final goodbye. I remained in Kuwait and had my own private remembrance of him, supported by my loving husband.
My contribution to his funeral in NZ took the form of my 'Dear Dad' letter which Liam read from his heart on my behalf.

Dad, you've left a gaping hole now you're gone; your parting has also closed the First Chapter of My Life.

Dear Dad,

You were barely more than a teenager and departed company from The Devil's Disciples Motorcycle gang when you learned that Mum Colleen was in the family way with me. You accepted your responsibilities, borrowed 50 pounds from Grandad to move into a flat and worked very hard to support a teenage bride and me, baby Sharon.



End of the first Chapter of my life - RIP Mum (12 May 1979) and Dad (15 June 2018)

Growing up I was an easy target for your endless teasing - from my shaggy mop of hair to my sensitivity.  You got me my Forest Gump operations and boots and also paid for my buck teeth to be fixed.

When the phone rang, you would call out 'ooooow, that'll be for Sharon....It'll be Roger!'. There never was a boyfriend called Roger; still it gave you a chuckle to wind me up. And it worked.

And the joke that with my height I would one day marry a Harlem Globe Trotter -  Well, That joke drove me nuts!

You never could walk past me without giving my knee a horse-bite or to tickle my feet. Little did I know then that these were your ways of loving me.

After The Accident, Grant, Ed and I visited you in hospital. In your morphine muddle you greeted us with 'ah, here they are, my three sons'. Still, you always made me feel that I was your one and only, DD, Darling Daughter.

When You met and fell for Mam Shirley I then had a bonus Mam and two more curly-haired brothers. Bedrooms were shifted, Friday night fish n chips portions increased and we became 7. 

I left home for nursing training and life was then phone calls and letters with you.  Once you bailed me out when I caught a taxi home to Wanganui.....from New Plymouth.

When I felt my life was no longer worth living, and I tried to end it, you encouraged me in a very simple way. Some-time after my months in hospital we sat watching tv. An ad. came on, I think for an insurance company with the theme song  'I can see clearly now the rain is gone'. You turned to me and said, 'Shari, that's your song'. You were right, Gone were the dark clouds that had me blind, and there were indeed more bright, bright sun-shiny days ahead. You believed in me long before I believed in myself.

When I became a single mother in England, having recently completed midwifery training, you and Mam welcomed us back home to live. You were a good role model for me, continuing to work hard and quietly and humbly caring for Nana and Grandad next door. It was a wonderful bonus to be four generations on one property.

For many years, When you persistently called my boy Liam, 'Lami' I came to realise and accept this was not a form of dyslexia after all but another attempt to wind me up. 

When I married Jeroen, your prophecy came true! I did marry a Globe Trotter! A Dutch one. Thank you that you welcomed him as your SIL, no matter that you couldn't understand him sometimes.

Jeroen enjoyed many hours peacefully watching the league and numerous Airplane disaster documentaries together with you. Thank you also to Jeroen for helping me strengthen my relationship with my Dad and by supporting me and releasing me to be back in NZ over this last year.

When I became a Christian, you supported me without understanding it. I will always treasure that you came to my church for my wedding vow renewal, and afterwards quietly walked me outside, holding my hand.

I will forever be touched by your first words when we told you we were moving to Africa -'who's going to have the dog?'. The rest is history- you and Jeddy became best friends, and after many doggy years together you were separated only by a few months and a casserole dish. **Not spoken; Jeddy passed on 6 months before Dad and his ashes resided in a sealed casserole dish.

 It was such a blessing for me to complete the shared custody arrangement and be there with you and Mam when Our Jeddy passed away last year. Jed adored you both.  He was also quite partial to the bonuses and treats that never failed to materialise from your generous and sometimes behind-Mam's-back hand.

When Jeroen and I moved to Africa, I know you had fears for my safety; still, you became my Number One Blog Fan and shared in our adventures over the last 6 years. I will keep writing it for you Dad.

When the end was coming near, your thoughts were of others, and particularly your concern was for your beloved wife. Your Shirl.

Mam, - thank you for all you did for Dad. You, with a bit of help from Florence-the-oxygen-machine and The Team, were dedicated and fearless in protecting and loving him. No-one could have done it better. In our time together I saw a unique and strong love you shared. Mam and Dad; You did things your way.  You overcame many hurdles together and put your wedding vows into action over many years. Respect.

You can be comforted in knowing you gave your all.

Dad, When we said our goodbyes you told me to go and live a good life - so with heart breaking to leave your embrace, I left you knowing this most likely was the last, last goodbye. 

I am at peace in knowing I was fully loved and cherished as your only daughter. We said our goodbyes and I will continue to honour you by trying to live a good life.

I figured out a while ago that Your merciless teasing in fact gave me a good foundation in letting go and not taking myself too seriously. You cried and thanked me when I told you this. I am grateful to have had such precious time with you to tell you of all these things.

Dad, you're heartbreakingly gone;

Still you'll always be The Best Dad I could have ever Had.
And despite the pain there will be other sun-shiny days.

I will love and miss you until the day I see you again-Your Shari.

Dad and me