I was awakened in the early hours of Saturday morning by sharp shooting pains. I don’t like to take painkillers, but I raided Rachel’s stash and after taking a couple, waited for them to kick in. Unfortunately, they didn’t, and I spent the rest of the night in the fetal position, moaning and feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Later that morning, I overheard Rachel on the phone and guessed the sad news: my father had passed away. It wasn’t completely unexpected, as Dad had been struggled with his health over the last year. Nevertheless, it’s the type of news that I don’t think anyone can prepare for, and then the guilt began as I remembered all of the times when I could have handled things better with him. Fortunately, my brother had been staying that weekend, to support Mum and was staying on.
My father and I didn’t always see eye to eye, and he was a man who showed little emotion. Perhaps not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how. It’s something I never understood, even after I had my own children. He was happiest around the creative arts, able to turn his hand to whatever he wanted. A talented draftsman in his early years, then he found music (Jazz), playing the saxophone in bands, including proudly the Royal Airforce band.
He was a great artist, exhibiting at galleries in London and the southeast of England, with his paintings finding homes across the world. He was an accomplished photographer, using only his own reference material for his artwork. Together with a good friend, over nearly a decade, they created the children’s animated series, “Cogs Hollow.” As talented artists, they drew and fabricated all of the characters themselves. They also filmed each episode in stop animation, and Dad even had a hand in writing the music… Incredible!
Ultimately, he was one of life’s continual learners, always pushing for perfection in whatever artistic medium he was working in. For me, it was frustrating to see, and he wasn’t always great to be around. But I was proud of his accomplishments and to call him my father. However, on reflection, I know that I didn’t tell him that often enough. I just spent too much time focusing on the things that he wasn’t so good at.
After two days, things were getting worse, so Rachel decided that we should probably get things checked out. I would normally have resisted, but I felt she was probably right. The hospital in Chania wasn’t the most modern medical establishment I’ve ever been in; in fact, it was a little rundown. But what they lacked in equipment and aesthetics, they more than made up for in competent people who were welcoming and full of assurance. After we’d been there for an hour or so, I threw up, something I haven’t done for a good 20 years. But after that, I started to feel better, and the numerous blood and urine tests had all come back clean, which was a relief. After the doctor had signed me off with some kind of gastroenteritis, we took a cab back to the apartment, where I was sick again. After having a shower, I crawled into bed and got some sleep for the first time in a days and a few days after that, I was on the mend.
Dream Chasers 