So Whats the Story?….. The Long Story

This is the longer story of the reason I am doing a sponsored 10k for three charities that you can read about in my last post So Whats the Story…? A 3-2-1 offer on a sponsored 10k.

During the Olympic summer of 2012 I was training for my first short triathlon, having been a ‘slow plodder’ for about 30 years of doing 10K’s and around 15 Half Marathons including five Great North Runs. I was never competitive and my motto was ‘when the going gets tough…..it’s time to slow down or even walk if needed’.

I woke up one Wednesday morning with a splitting headache and some numbness in my right foot. Putting it down to ‘man flu’ and an old back injury I worked that day but took the next one off. On Friday I woke up and could barely move my right side and the headache was excruciating. By the time we got to A&E I could barely stand unaided. A stroke was diagnosed, and I was put in a ward and pumped full of aspirin. On Sunday after a CT scan I was told that it could be a cancerous brain tumour and I was being sent to a specialist hospital 18 miles away. They confirmed that it wasn’t a tumour but a large amount of infection. They were not able to operate, as I had so much aspirin in my blood there was a danger that I would suffer a bleed in the brain. By Thursday my condition deteriorated, and they did an emergency biopsy. This didn’t go well and early the next morning I went for a second operation to drain the infection. Alyson was told that I might not make it, and when our two sons arrived from their homes in the south, they had what we now refer to as ‘the organ donation conversation’.

Memories of the next 24 hours are sketchy but when I arrived back on the ward from intensive care, I still couldn’t move my right side and although I understood what people were saying I couldn’t answer at all. The only words I managed were a tentative ‘yes’ (when I meant no) and no (meaning yes). Later I managed to speak a little but then it was mainly swear words which, as people who know me will confirm, I rarely use.

So began treatment involving two antibiotics intravenously five times a day every day. I was also put on anti-epileptic medication to prevent fitting, and antidepressants for my low mood. The days were endless, the restless nights even longer. I was struggling with tiredness and extreme confusion. Coming to a dead stop after my life as a busy IT Project Manager was hard. I wanted to be back at work but had to learn that in the brain business, days turn to weeks and weeks to months.

I tried to read newspapers and magazines but by the end of a paragraph I had forgotten what the headline was about. I had asked for my Bible to be brought in and that was even harder to read. I couldn’t even remember The Lord’s Prayer. My Bible was still a source of some comfort, although starting on Psalms was probably not my best idea. I do have a vivid memory of Carmen, a Columbian nurse singing quietly a hymn while she gently washed my back. I shared stories with other overseas nurses who, on seeing my Bible, talked about life ‘back home’ and what their faith meant to them.

I started intense physio and speech therapy. Being left-handed was a bonus as at least I could do some basic tasks. It took three people to get me out of bed using a hoist and either onto the toilet or eventually to prop me up in a chair.  What I couldn’t do was muster the words to ask to be put back, so often sat there frustrated for hours as people came in and out of my room.

Alyson visited me twice a day every day for the next 12 weeks. I owe her a debt that will never be paid. Church friends and close family helped relate my story each day to our wider circle. My brother and cousins drove mum and dad from their home 3 hours away. I barred any visitors other than close family at first, as I looked awful and couldn’t concentrate enough. When I relented our friends were faced with Ian who didn’t have any personality. The lights were on, but no-one was at home.

Then started daily visits from close friends, our sons, Alyson’s sister and brother, cousins. I couldn’t remember who had been from one day to the next – but I know that they all made me feel better – even if it didn’t always show on my face. Chocolates, grapes, biscuits and particularly ready-made custard were very welcome!

Work colleagues from the IT & Business Consultancy business I worked in visited and I was grateful for their support covering the projects I was supposed to be managing. Alyson’s employers Co-op Pharmacy were very understanding and allowed her all the time off with compassionate leave. The stress and worry meant that she was unable to work in any useful way.

Eight weeks in I needed a third operation as infection was still collecting in my brain. I had ‘drains’ fitted linked to bags on my shoulder – I looked like ‘Dracula’s Bride’ for a week or so.

This is a scan of my brain just before the operation on the left, and what a ‘normal’ brain looks like on the right – you don’t need to be medically trained to see the pools of infection and damage….

The result was a small improvement in all my symptoms; I managed to move a toe then bend my ankle.  I managed some ‘freedom’ with a wheelchair that I could push myself around the ward and, if Alyson came with me, to the café or even outside. Friends and family began to see some big changes in both my alertness and mobility.

Steve Ingrouille, the minister at my local Methodist church, came to visit and we had the strangest communion I have ever received sitting in a corner of the public restaurant. Steve did the complete service with the bread and wine used at my church the previous Sunday.
Alyson also had great support from church friends who rallied around to help and I believe that the prayers they gave aided my recovery. Val Mayers and our neighbours Stuart & Veronica Rhodes need a special mention. I continue to gain strength from my church fellowship and my faith.

My mood slowly improved and when mum visited me one Saturday as she left we hugged and she said ‘Love you son, keep getting better and see you soon’. These were the last words she said to me as the next day she had a heart attack and was put into a coma on a life support system for a week.  One Friday as I was taking my first steps unaided by physios I had a missed call on my mobile. It was my brother telling me that mum had died…she never got to see me walk again.

I was allowed out of hospital for one day to travel to her funeral 150 miles away and managed to stand using a frame to give part of her eulogy.

I had my laptop back by then to write and plan my ‘escape’ from the rehab hospital until my condition improved enough for Alyson to take me home in a wheelchair. The skilled consultants, surgeons, nursing team and physios had ‘fixed me’ – physically at least.

18 months of hard work started, to recover from my ongoing symptoms, regain my driving licence, and build my strength enough to stand on my own with a stick, and climb stairs. I did some part-time work in the IT Consultancy Business, helping the owners to sell the part of the business I was in. I knew about this before my illness but it meant me being made redundant. I then managed to get a little paid work with my church on finance and property.

Alyson went back to work as a pharmacy manager in a very busy community pharmacy attached to a surgery. This is an extremely demanding role with a team of around 20 to manage and unrealistic targets set. At least I was able to support her in this, being at home to look after practical things around the house, waiting for trades people, doing some of the household chores that until then had fallen mainly on Alyson. I was happy with a lower pace of life than before, and could rest when needed.

I had the hip replacement that I needed before going into hospital, and it was through this that I met Annette Turner, a brilliant physio specialising in hydrotherapy. When my consultant had signed me off in February 2013 he said it would be two years before we would know the lasting damage and implied this would be substantial. Annette convinced me that, whilst that was true, she could get me to the point where it might be that the only thing I couldn’t do was to move my little toe. That has proved to be the case.

In January 2014 I was encouraged by Beth Fisher, Service Manager from the Acquired Brain Injury service in Chester, to attend a support group who met for coffee. This is an amazing organisation who provide help for people with a brain injury to reduce the loneliness that can come from hidden symptoms, loss of confidence in social situations, along with memory issues and extreme fatigue. During the last few years this group has formed into a formal charity. I am now a trustee of Head Injured People in Cheshire.

Steve Price, an accountant who had been one of my project managers, had left to concentrate on his own business. In August 2014 he offered me the opportunity to work with him a few days a month to get out of his front room into an office,  taking on some people to help him.  I am eternally grateful to Steve and the team for the opportunity to work with them putting new systems, marketing material, social media, lots of new business processes in place as we grew. I became Compliance & Training Manager. (In April 2019 Steve and the rest of the team merged with another practice and he is now one of 5 directors in a company with 23 employees and a growing list of clients. I took the opportunity to retire).

I had another 18 months of physio and got to walk correctly and slowly, then six months later I decided to try running a few steps. I did a short route around our home in streets that I had used for training. It took me about 30 minutes to do a couple of miles with intense concentration on my foot placement and staying upright. I had to sleep for an hour afterwards. Fatigue is a lasting symptom of brain injury and several afternoons a week I sleep for 40 minutes, and each time I run I must sleep for around 50% longer than the time I take.

I don’t remember how I heard about Parkrun but in April 2016 I arrived at Delamere with my barcode and did the whole 5k without stopping. It was very emotional, and my account can be found at https://skatchat.wordpress.com/2016/04/.

Alyson used to come with me and walk the course before we started and meet me at the end but then two weeks before her 59th birthday she announced that she fancied running it. As someone who has asthma and have never run before I was amazed. She did her first run in 37 minutes, beat my PB the next week and after 5 more successive PBs she now runs around 30 minutes. She even fell over once and after dusting herself off for a short while still beat me by four minutes.

So the 100th Parkrun completed yesterday was an emotional one too, coming as it did on the 7th anniversary of mum’s death. Alyson did her 24th and our son Michael volunteered.  My brother Andrew did his 100th at Newcastle on the same day along with his son Thomas.

As we lost dad in 2016 and have received some money from their estate, it seemed a good time to celebrate my recovery and use their legacy to raise funds for the three charities that have helped me. So next weekend I will take on 10k at Tatton Park.

So Whats the Story?…..where I am now.

Reflecting on the past seven years, I genuinely feel that I am in a better place than before my brain injury. Sure, it has been a tough time and I wouldn’t want to inflict the stress and worry on my family that was some of our experience. Overall the positives are;

  • I am in a less stressful state than I was before – many people when they heard it may have been a stroke worried that it was due to pressure of work and church business that had caused it. I often say that my memory problems mean that I can’t remember what I am supposed to stress about
  • I feel that my faith has been strengthened, as it says in Psalm 40

    I patiently waited, Lord for you to hear my prayer. You listened and pulled me from a lonely pit full of mud and mire. You let me stand on a rock with my feet firm, and you gave me a new song a song of praise to you

    and when I hear the story in Luke’s gospel of the paralysed man whose friends prayed for him and took him to Jesus – I can really relate to that.

    But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the paralyzed man, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” Immediately he stood up in front of them, took what he had been lying on and went home praising God.
    Everyone was amazed and gave praise to God. They were filled with awe and said, “We have seen remarkable things today.”

There is no substitute for confronting your own mortality and asking the real
questions of what your life is about…

  • I have been able to spend more time working for my local church on finance and property issues, to support the Leadership Team looking at new ways of working, recruiting some amazing lay workers to support our ministers and churches.
  • I have had more time to give to Alyson and our family. Supporting them through difficult times at work and being there to help with looking after her parents and supporting her when they died these past two years. Our two sons are in well-paid roles and have been able to buy their own homes. They too have benefited from their grandparents’ legacies, and by that I don’t just mean the financial ones.
  • We are fortunate to have built up enough savings to be comfortable in our retirement. I had several good jobs in companies with strong ethics and who made a difference to their employees and the patients/customers they served.  I have been able to help a friend build his business to repay his faith in me.
  • I work with some amazing people in the head injury charity and have met some truly inspirational survivors, who live in much more challenging after effects than mine. Head injury doesn’t discriminate on the basis of age, wealth, personal background, education or experience. I am fortunate that the relationships with family and close friends have survived – that is not always the case.

So as I look forward to enjoying some travel and a forthcoming pilgrimage to the Holy Land, I wonder what the future holds, and the next challenge we will face. I hope that I am up to the task but know that I will have a lot of support.

Thank you for reading my story.

Ian Skaife, October 2019

So Whats the Story…? A 3-2-1 offer on a sponsored 10k.

The Short Story...

For those of you who have found this page for details on my upcoming 10k sponsored run, these are the basic details with links to the pages where you can donate.

I am running the Tatton Park 10k on Sunday 13th October 2019. I have decided to do this as it is near the seventh anniversary of my mum’s sudden death in 2012. I was in hospital struggling to walk or communicate after 12 of weeks of treatment for a brain injury. I stood and took my first small steps unaided at exactly the time of a missed call on my phone from my brother telling me that, after withdrawal of life support, my mum had died. She never saw me walk again..

It has been a long journey since that time and you can read more details in the ‘Long Story’ which I will post before the event.

I am running for three charities that have helped me and others.

Cheshire South Methodist Circuit – The key unit of mission for my local church.
For more details, and to donate go to my Just Giving crowdfunding page at
Just Giving Crowdfunding – Ian Skaife

HIP in Cheshire – The charity of which I am a member trustee and which helps people like me with friendship, support and saves us from social isolation. For more details go to
HIP – CAF Donate – Ian Skaife

Royal Stoke Hospital – (UHNM Charity) – This was the hospital that fixed me physically. They need some new equipment for the Neuroscience ward that I was on. For more details go to    UHNM Virgin Money Giving – Ian Skaife

That’s the ‘3’ from the title of this page, but there is a special offer which is the ‘2’. I have been fortunate to receive a legacy from my mum and dad’s estate and want to use that to Double Your Sponsorship (before Gift Aid). To be very clear if you give £10 I will add £20 so that it becomes £30 total. If you donate £50 I will add £100 to make it £150. Go on, challenge me…..!

The ‘1’ is me taking part in the event. In so many ways I will not be on my own as I have the support of my faith, my close family and so many friends from the charities and people who have worked with me.

My target is to raise £1,000 for each charity, but my hope is that together we can do so much more and touch the lives of a lot of people.

Thanks for reading this and if you feel that you can’t give, that’s absolutely ok. Just think of me, and the charities on the day.

Coming Soon – The Long Story….

Celebrating my 50th & moving on…

50th Park Run - Feb 2018

This week I passed two significant milestones.

Tuesday was exactly 5 years since my neurosurgeon formally discharged me from his care, following treatment for a serious brain injury that paralysed the whole right side of my body and left me unable to speak. It was 6 months after I first went into hospital.

Yesterday I completed my 50th Park run since starting to run again almost two years ago. Although it was my fastest time for several months, that was completely unimportant. Being able to enjoy the feeling of running, breathing the clear fresh air, hearing the birds sing in the trees against bright blue sky – that’s what meant the most. Thanking God for my journey and the changed person I have become is equally important.  As I ran I thought about my family, church fellowship, friends and the medical team who have helped me get to this point.

My wife Alyson (my greatest supporter of all) often tells me that I should ‘move on’. This does not mean to forget; just not to dwell on the past and look more to the future. I feel that this is the time to take up that call.

I will always have my current symptoms of fatigue, memory issues, weakness and balance problems, but I am determined that these will not stop me from seeking new challenges and adventures.

We never know what will happen in the future, and the fact that a friend from church was diagnosed with a brain tumour and had a stroke a few weeks ago, is a painful reminder of that.

I will wear my red 50th Park Run shirt with pride and, all being well, will get my black 100th in the next two years – I tend to run once a fortnight.  By that time retirement may have happened and who knows where that will lead us.

For now my faith is stronger, my confidence has returned, my stress level is controlled (partly as I can’t hold too many things in my mind so forget what I should be worrying about!), and my general health is reasonable.

Time to ‘move on’…

 

 

 

 

Mothering Sunday – traditional & updated.

Even with all the advances in medical science and technology, I think we can be pretty certain that every person on earth has a mother. Many may not remember or even know who their mother is, many may have lost touch, but mothers and ‘motherly love’ form an important part of life.

We lost our mum four and a half years ago, which means I don’t have anyone to send a card or flowers to. However, I have the less traditional means of acknowledging the love mum showed by writing about it here.

Mum brought us up in a traditional church environment of Sunday school and Mothering Sunday is the fourth Sunday in Lent, a day when people go back to their ‘mother church’. Like many of the religious festivals this one has been taken on by retail & commercial interests – think Easter eggs, M&S Christmas adverts, expensive flowers & cards. In the United States & Canada ‘Mother’s Day’ is the second Sunday in May and has been officially since 1914. It is much more commercial, and has been taken up by over 60 countries across the world.

This morning I went not to my ‘mother church’, but to our local Methodist one, where Rev Den reminded us that the traditional family is a changing one. 9 million people in the UK live in single person households, many young women choose not to join the ‘traditional’ family of mum, dad and children. The number of children in a UK household has gone down from 2.4 and is around 1.7. There are so-called ‘blended families’ formed by those whose relationships have broken down, often more than once. Same sex couples adopting add to the wonderful variety of what we call ‘families’.

I wait to see this week’s documentary following ex footballer Rio Ferdinand and his journey taking on the ‘mother’ role to his children, following the death of his wife, their mother, from cancer almost two years ago. It will be full of many different emotions. I know of someone whose wife died giving birth to twin girls leaving him not only grieving, but having to bring up two young children – I can’t imagine how hard that is. In both examples I guess ‘Mothering Sunday’ takes on a whole different form.

We need to remember on this special day, those who have never felt a mother’s love, those who had a ‘difficult’ or even abusive relationship with their mother, and those who still don’t know who their mother is.

The day is also a hard one for those mothers who have lost a child and have no one to phone them, send a card or bring flowers. For those of us who follow a Christian faith Mary, the mother of Jesus, is an example of such a person.

My mum died suddenly when I had been in hospital for 10 weeks with a brain injury that left me unable to talk clearly, or walk at all. This was what I said about that in the tribute at mum’s funeral two weeks later…

I know that mum is now at peace and I didn’t feel the need to travel to be with her when she went to sleep, but I was pleased to hear that my older brother and my younger brother’s wife had been with her the night before, and dad  my younger brother were with her the moment on that Friday lunchtime when, as dad put it, she ‘looked peaceful and in no pain’. My brother had told her on the Tuesday when they turned the life support off that I had taken my first steps on the ward, and when I missed the call on Friday to say that mum had gone it was because I was taking my first few steps unsupported by the physios…..I like to think that mum was holding my hand.

We will all have some regrets for all the things which we could have done together and the times which might have been, but I will always remember the last words we said to each other as we hugged after visiting. I said ‘I love you mum thanks for coming’ and she replied ‘I love you too son and hope you keep getting better.’

My wife and her sister told me later that they believe that mum had done a ‘deal with God’, giving up her life to save mine. I don’t think God does such deals, but understand the sentiment, and I know mum, like many others, would gladly have offered her life to end my suffering.

There are people who believe that robins are a sort of angel who visit us on behalf of loved ones to keep an eye on us. Again I don’t subscribe to this, but it is good to be reminded of mum whenever I see one. Just this afternoon as I was thinking about this blog whilst cutting our lawn, a robin who is a regular visitor to our garden landed on a bush. I could hear its incessant call over the noise of the motor – ‘go on write your blog’ it seemed to be saying! This is a picture I took of it last autumn…

Robin - our garden

Mum was someone who enjoyed her garden and the new life that came from it. We put mum’s ashes under a flowering cherry tree that sits in the churchyard opposite her garden – the main picture at the start of this blog. As spring moves into summer it is a reminder of on-going life and vitality.

In addition to love and demonstrating Christian care, mum showed me that we need to remember those less fortunate than we are. This week would have been an upsetting one for her with television news having the following items:

  • The plight of mothers watching their young children die as the result of famine in eastern Africa.
  • The Westminster Bridge attack near parliament where Aysha Frade was strolling across on the way to collect her children from school when Khalid Massood charged down the pavement in a 4×4 and snatched her life away. She had just come from work, a school itself, where she dedicated herself to helping youngsters learn the language and culture of her native Spain.
  • Comic Relief and the many appeals showing the suffering of children who had lost both parents, with daughters taking on the mother’s role.
  • The appeal on the same programme to prevent mothers losing small children to malaria – preventable by a simple test and a cheap mosquito net.
  • The children dying as a result of the bombings in Mosul in Iraq – more mothers left childless.

We need to acknowledge that whatever we think of Khalid Massood and his actions, he had a mother whose feelings at this time we may never really know, but can imagine.

For those, like me and my brothers, who had the loving example of a mother who cared for us & others, her life carries on in the way we act towards other people. As my friend put it in a poem to her mum after she passed away at the start of the year, following a long time suffering with dementia…

Mum you always said when we were young that we should try our best;
helping you live with dementia was a truly challenging test.
We hope you would be proud of us, if you realised all we’d done;
we tried our best and in the end our battle with dementia was won.

We shouldn’t dwell on the recent past, happy memories we have a plenty;
of a devoted mum, grandma, great grandma , teacher and friend to many.
….

These are the memories we treasure, the ones that involve the real you;
that stranger that came into our lives was only passing through.

On that dull January day you passed away, but you haven’t really gone;
in the way we think, and what we do, so much of you lives on.
To make a difference and try our best we will always endeavour,
so mum goodnight and God bless, all my love, Heather xx

God bless mothers everywhere.

 

 

Life & Death Part 2. Walking in the light, a life well lived, three orphans & time to move on…

Our mum used to say  ‘..as Methodists we have faith and don’t believe in superstition’. We had no problem holding dad’s funeral on Friday 13th January. It turned out to be a day that started with a light covering of snow, but this didn’t settle and we were able to follow the hearse from Thornton Dale to the Crematorium in Scarborough. On the journey there, and also on our return, we saw a complete and very bright rainbow. Adam, our funeral director and fellow Methodist, commented – ‘Seeing a sign like that, makes you realise all will be well’.

Light also had a part to play the day dad died at the end of December. We had been staying for the week at a cottage on the North York Moors, with my wife’s family to celebrate Christmas. It was a beautiful spot with views over the hills & valleys of the moors. We enjoyed stunning sunrises and on many nights the sky was so clear we could see an endless canopy of stars. With the only artificial light from houses in the village and RAF Fylingdales early warning station, it was a ‘dark sky’ area.

sunrise-over-fylingdales-27-dec-2016
Sunrise over Fylingdales 27 Dec 2016
stars-over-fylingale-27-dec-2016
Stars over Fylingdales 27 Dec 2016

Dad was nearing death as the result of his Parkinson’s causing an inability to swallow two weeks’ previously. After a short spell in hospital – beside the crematorium that he would return to – dad was allowed to go back to his care home in Pickering for palliative care. Our cottage was only a 30 minute drive away, so we visited him several times. My younger brother, Andrew, and his family called in to see him on their way to relatives in the south.

The night before dad passed away I set off to drive the short journey, but a heavy fog had come down. It was obvious after taking 10 minutes to get less than a mile that it was a dangerous journey without streetlights or markings at the edge of the roads. A phone call to the home confirmed that it was they same there. I had already visited dad that morning and now he was settled down for a good night’s sleep. I returned to the cottage.

Next morning I woke up early; the fog had cleared and through the skylight a host of bright stars shone in. Lying in the quiet stillness I thought about dad and prayed to God that if it was His will then it was time to let go, and for dad to pass on to his next life. I also remembered my mum who had died four years ago of a sudden heart attack. Dad had missed her terribly and took about two years to get over his grief. Recently, in a cruel twist brought on by his dementia, dad had started asking us when we visited if we had seen mum, as she hadn’t been to visit him for a while. If we told dad the truth he looked shocked and said it was too much to bear. We decided not to lie but changed the subject and distracted him with something else.

As I got up and went down for breakfast, the sun was just coming up over Fylingdales and the sky was a beautiful pale orange colour. The air was still and a few tufts of high, white cloud were visible. Through the large glass kitchen doors overlooking the garden & fields of sheep, a tawny owl flew past slowly and gently settled out of sight among a clump of grasses. A rabbit hopped across the gravel driveway and under the wooden gate to the field. Four female pheasants came onto the lawn to feed on the breadcrumbs and nuts we had put out. A robin and sparrow sat on top of the wooden table where we had put the remaining food.  The place was teeming with life and the beauty of nature.

There was no mobile phone signal so we had been using wi-fi and WhatsApp to communicate. We finished breakfast and were packing up to leave, as we were due out by 10am,  when Anne Marie (the owner and nurse manager of the care home) sent me a message asking me to call on WhatsApp. I managed to speak to her long enough to tell me that dad had passed away a few minutes before. I heard her say it was peaceful then the signal went and I couldn’t phone back. Driving up the half mile farm track to the main road I managed to find a good signal to call Andrew. Anne Marie had called him already, and we shared a short silence and a sense of relief that it was over. I called the home to say I would visit after we left the cottage.

As I made the journey to Pickering the sun was rising higher against blue sky & reflecting off the rail tracks in the deep wooded valley of the preserved steam railway that curves through the moors. I passed the end of a narrow track off the road down which lie the ashes of dad’s brother and wife, overlooking the valley and the moors beyond.

The closer I got to town the fog, light at first, got thicker so that by the time I got to the care home it was dark, damp and cold. As Anne Marie took me to see dad she told me that she had checked on him at 25 to 9 and he was sleeping peacefully and five minutes later she came back and he had died. The night shift hourly care records all said ‘settled and sleeping quietly’. Dad’s earthly life had come to a peaceful and pain-free end. Anne Marie confided that when she awoke that morning she too had prayed the same words as me. When she had opened the window to ‘let his soul free’ as they do in many hospitals and care homes, I like to think that dad escaped the darkness of the town and soared up to see his brother and sister-in-law at that beautiful spot I passed on the way in. A place where the sky was blue, the sun shining and the birds singing. All would be stillness and peace.

Anne Marie gave me dad’s Bible to read whilst I sat with him. A bookmark was placed at the first chapter of John’s first letter; a section headed The Word of life, walking in the light.

God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.  If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth.
But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.

 There was a Post-it note in dad’s writing of two other passages about faith and actions and helping those in need. A further bookmark was at Psalm 121 which we had used in mum’s service. It seemed that I had been given the readings and theme for dad’s service of remembrance.

Dad’s was the first dead body I have seen. When I kissed the top of his head it was cold, but holding his hand it was still warm. I sat quietly listening to the hymns which had been playing all week at his bedside. I cried a few tears, but the overwhelming feeling was one of gratefulness & peace.

I am usually a blubbering wreck at funerals, even for people I barely know and who have been ill for a long time. I was always amazed that the family could stay so calm. However, having spent two weeks planning the service and writing dad’s tribute, for the service back at Thornton Dale Chapel, after the shorter one at the crematorium, it seemed natural to be calm and speak joyfully of dad’s life of faith and service. We shared lots of stories and some jokes with his church friends and family from near and far. This continued over lunch afterwords.

I was given a book for Christmas written by one of my cousin’s friends Rosalind Bradley titled ‘A Matter of Life and Death’, consisting of 60 short passages by various people sharing their experiences of death.  It asks us to treat death as a natural part of life. To think, talk and plan for it, so that when it comes – which it certainly will – we and those who know us can go through the process in a peaceful, ordered way. I have yet to finish it, but some useful words found already are;

Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.    Rabindranath Tagore.

Do not seek death. Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfilment.  Dag Hammarskjold’s words as chosen by Arrchbishop Desmond Tutu in his foreword.

Our dead watch over us from inside our hearts. We talk to them, they talk to us, and their love and wisdom bless us.   Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg.

The picture at the start of this blog is we three brothers who can now be classed as orphans, standing next to ‘mum’s tree’ at Wilton in front of the small Anglican church. We buried mum’s ashes under a flowering cherry we bought to replace one that had died. The bungalow in the background was where mum & dad spent 24 years together in retirement. Mum loved her garden so now looks over that and the Wolds nearby. Dad will be joining mum in the spring. The photo was taken after the funeral service and the flowers are the cross from dad’s coffin and another wreath from our cousins (whose mum’s and dad’s ashes are in the valley overlooking the railway and moors near Fylingdales).

As we said at the end of dad’s tribute:

…we join our cousins in becoming ‘orphans’, we also join them as living testimony to the care and love of our parents.

The fact that we hopefully are contributing in a positive way to our local community and society, being aware of social injustice & poverty, the needs of our neighbours near and far, means we will continue to be a tribute to them.

And that love and care will continue as our families grow from one generation to the next.

We all need to move on to the next stage in our lives, to let go of, but not forget the past.

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