Since I posted about Mum, I've also been thinking back to Dad, and how he affected my life. He died March 5, 1998. He had been sick for quite a while, but I didn't know how sick until Lorrie called me and told me to come home if I wanted to see him before he died. I flew home the next day, and a friend of David and Lorrie's picked me up at the airport and drove me to the hospital, but he had died about 1/2 before I got there. I didn't recognize him - he was so small in that bed, and I remember him as a big burly man. I tried to call mum at home - she had gone home with a migraine - but I guess she had turned the phone down. Then I went back and just sat in the room at the end of the bed, outside the curtain. I just closed my eyes and started to think about him and what he had given me, all the times he had lent me money when I needed it, supported my decisions, and had just been there as a quiet support when I needed him, and I felt his presence. It was like he was standing there listening to me talk to him and when I thanked him for being my dad, and being there for me, I saw him nod his head, smile, and then he just faded away. To this day, I think he knew I was coming and he waited for me. I love you Dad. I miss you.

When I was taking the Adult Education course on Mentoring, I came to the realization that Dad had been a significant mentor in my life.

Whenever I was in a crisis point, it was Dad who helped me through. In his quiet, unexcitable way, he got to the crux of the matter, and supported me in my decisions. Even when he didn't understand them, or didn't really agree. I remember him telling me that I was always responsible for my on actions and would have to accept the consequences. But that everything that I did also reflected on the family. And that has stayed with me and has influenced my decisions on many occasions.

He also told me that I should never let other people make my decisions for me, to stand true to my beliefs, and to stand my ground when I knew I was right. That hasn't always been the case, but is more in my life now than when I was younger.

When there was an argument in the family, or some crisis or another, and tempers were up, voices raised, Dad would just sit quietly in the midst of chaos. If asked for his opinion, he never gave one. But would often say, "It's not as bad as the North Atlantic in winter." That really puts things in perspective.

Dad was a merchant marine in the British Merchant Navy and during WWII, he spent many trips on convoys between New York and Mermansk in Russia, taking supplies to the Allies. The North Atlantic in a storm could have huge waves. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dYpeakBYkY as an example.

He was one of the most honest men I've ever met, and he was a man of his word. He could also have no patience for what he considered foolishness, and really didn't have a lot of patience with people.

He spent a lot of time "in his head." He wasn't social or gregarious, but once you got him into a social setting, he would enjoy himself.

I remember him teaching me how to do the two-step, and dancing around the kitchen table to the radio. At my prom, he dance with me so much that my date and mom had to cut in to get time on the dance floor! He loved music, especially Gilbert and Sullivan. We had a set of records with a book that had all the words to all of the musicals, and we would sit in the living room and follow along. Neither of us could really sing, but we enjoyed ourselves. I gave him a record on Christmas, the Beatles done by the Hollywood Strings Orchestra. You should have seen his face! He didn't like "modern" music (we are talking the 60s here), but he was polite. At least it wasn't a bag of Licorice Allsorts! Then, one day he listened to it. I don't know if he put it on, or I did, but after he listened to about half of it, he turned to me and said, "Those boys know how to write music!" High praise, indeed.

Mum told the story of how when they were in Zanzibar and they had guests over, they would be sitting on the screened veranda, and dad would play the guitar. He didn't strum, but played all the notes. After he had been playing for a while, they could look out into the garden, and they could see a multitude of eyes in the ground cover. It was frogs, come to listen to the music too! Apparently, dad played the violin when he was a boy, but gave that up and took up the guitar when he joined the Merchant Marine.

I have his papers from when he joined. It is a big certificate, and it says "Indentured Apprentice"on it. Amazing - he couldn't quit I guess, if he didn't like it. It has the list of the ships he served on written on the back. Not all of them, but I guess the ones he served on until he fulfilled his contract.

Dad didn't talk much about himself. Mum was the one who actually told most of the stories about him. He never bragged about anything.