"The Lord is my strength and my refuge.
Of whom shall I be afraid."
This was the last scripture that I heard my father speak. It was just a few weeks before he died, and we were visiting him in the hospital. He was having a very bad day, and he was in a great deal of pain and anguish. In the midst of his despair, he called out those words...
"The Lord is my Strength and my Refuge. Of whom shall I be afraid."
I believe this speaks volumes about the strength of his faith and his courage, which sustained him throughout his life. I am certain that it was this that helped him through the terrible experiences he endured during the war. In that moment, I loved my father even more than I had ever loved him. I would have gladly given my life if I could have taken away his pain.
I wish that everyone could have had a father like mine.
When I was a little girl, I had terrible nightmares almost every night, and it was always my father who came into my room to comfort me. He would take me downstairs to the kitchen and make me some warm milk with honey, and we would talk quietly until I was no longer afraid. He never seemed to become impatient with me, even when it happened again and again.
I remember him reading to us in the evenings in front of the big fireplace at the cottage - Robert Louis Stevenson, Rudyard Kipling... all the classics.
I remember Saturday morning errands with him, when he would take my sister and I along with him to the car wash, and the dry cleaners and the butcher shop. He always seemed so proud to introduce us as his daughters.
When I was a little girl, I used to think that if God didn't know the answer to something, He would ask my Dad.
But the thing that I remember most is that, growing up in a noisy house full of turmoil, where everyone always seemed to be yelling and screaming at each other, my Dad was the only person who ever made me feel safe. That is the memory that I will keep with me for all of my life.
One of my father's favourite poets was William Blake, and I would like to share one of his favourite poems with you. It is called, "To The Evening Star".
"Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed.
Smile on our loves, and, while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares through the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are covered with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence."
Goodbye, my dear Daddy. You have suffered so much for so long, yet now, through the Grace of God, you are finally at peace. You are free from all pain. You are with your darling wife, Eleanor. And, at last, you are Home.
Thank you for being my father. You will always be my hero.
From your loving daughter, Laura
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed.
Smile on our loves, and, while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares through the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are covered with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence."
Goodbye, my dear Daddy. You have suffered so much for so long, yet now, through the Grace of God, you are finally at peace. You are free from all pain. You are with your darling wife, Eleanor. And, at last, you are Home.
Thank you for being my father. You will always be my hero.
From your loving daughter, Laura
