In memory of Dad…

In conversation with… …didn’t really want to title this piece, but once I started sifting through the memories, it felt a little

like I was having a conversation in my head constantly – with myself but mostly with Dad. Of course this task also brought

on the element of panic. Panic that I couldn’t remember all the important stuff. I remember chatting to Shelly and saying:

‘What am I going to do? I can’t remember EVERY single day we had with Dad!’

I guess in the end I read a beautiful ‘word from the wise’ ...

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you

made them feel”

.. and made peace with the fact that everyone’s memories and moments will be different as we experience those

around us in such different ways; and for me, it was that warm feeling of safety, fun, love and acceptance that I cherished

most of all.

I realise we all know how Dad loved the great outdoors – land or sea – let’s conquer it! – the stories are endless. Some

tales and experiences that my boys are now getting to hear about and experience through me. I am truly grateful for all he

taught me – sometimes I feel like quite the Supermom with the stuff I surprise them with that are thanks to Dad!

I simply didn’t know where to start with this. I remember watching a Walt Disney programme recently called “Win-Dixie”.

Now we know the recipe of a good Walt Disney is that there is usually a wonderful moral behind the story and whilst we all

go ‘yeah! yeah!’, we all tend to give the story a second thought at some point. For me, I have thought about this story over

and over since Dad passed away. Towards the end of the story, this beautiful little girl decides (and you’ll have to watch

the whole story to get the details, sorry!) that the most important thing is to remember just 10 things about the people (and

special things) in your life. Her theory: if you have just 10 things that you can remember about everyone special in your

life, no matter what part/function they fill, they will always be with you and you will never forget them. Each thing must be

unique to that person. I know this sounds easy, but try it. Take anyone close to you and try list 10 relevant-to-that-person-

only items. Items that are unique to your relationship with them.

These are mine for you Dad, in no particular order:

1. You loved to laugh. Not just giggle, but laugh until you couldn’t breath and the tears rolled down your face. It was so

contagious.

2. Annie. You always called me this. I remember asking you on several occasions: why “Annie’, it’s not even remotely

related to ‘Lesley’. There was no real rhyme or reason, but that was his name for me and no-one has ever called me that

except him. I think Dad had a nick-name for everyone he loved.

3. ‘I ask you with tears in my lily-blue eyes’. I LOVED this saying. Dad always used to say this. The fact that Lilies were

not ‘blue’ made no difference and gave licence to everyone else to adapt it as required. Mine being ‘Lily-brown’ and

making even less sense, but very funny nevertheless.

4. ‘If it’s not bleeding, it can’t be sore!’ I remember Dad telling us this from years ago. Every time we hurt ourselves, we

knew what Dad was going to say … to the point that you would inevitably check first if it was bleeding and then decide if

you were going to go and whine about it. I tried this recently when I went to the Cedarberg and witnessed a little girl

hurtling down a hill on her bike; watched the fall and ran up to her, saying: Is it bleeding? When she looked at her knee

with big eyes and then looked back at me with a nervous ‘no’, I said ‘OK, then it can’t be sore, hmm?’ Holding back the

tears of obvious pain, she gingerly got up and peddled away. A friend standing next to me was appalled!

5. His love for gadgets. If there was a new, clever gadget out there, Dad would either have it or wish he had it. Anything

that made life easier and/or more fun. My younger son, Nic, recently had a birthday, and it was just after Dad passed

away. When I asked him what his wish-list was, he said, ‘Mom, you know me, I’m a gadget man! Anything gadgety!’ I

wanted to burst into tears with every shop I wandered aimlessly through to try and find Nic the perfect age-appropriate

gadget. All the while knowing that if Dad was there he would have a million options to make Nic’s day! I settled for a rather

snazzy blow-pipe that went down rather well!

6. Trust. This one is possibly a bit of both Mum and Dad. Dad always went about big decisions by first trusting on a

handshake – the gentlemen’s way. Your handshake was your word. However, (and this was the part I remember through

high school rather well) when the trust was broken, it couldn’t be regained. An important lesson for me that I have never

forgotten. Trust your gut and appreciate and respect when someone trusts you enough to hold you in confidence and

appreciate good friendships! Every time I thought of missing that curfew … there was always that little voice!...

7. Your love for the ultimate braai. Dad always took a good braai seriously and thoroughly enjoyed the process. It was

never just a ‘stuk’ meat; there were starters of something (whether seafood or chicken necks or strips of the finest fillet) …

there had to be a build up. And if it was possible to use the braai and braai rotisserie in one function, all the better! …and

the braai ALWAYS lasted ALL day. It was amazing!

8. The patience of thought. It was never a good idea to ask Dad an important question and expect an answer

immediately… he always took his time and thought things through first before giving the final verdict. Something I wish I

had analysed more swiftly earlier on!

9. Silent conversation. I remember in the less than easier times when Mum and Dad separated, Dad would want to

‘disappear’ for the day. Childishly I would offer to go along as I couldn’t bear the thought of him being on his own. It always

amazed me how we could spend an entire day in each other’s company and not say a word. It felt like we chatted, but

thinking about it, nothing relevant was ever said. While Dad loved company, he always struck me as somewhat of a loner.

I often see this coming through in Nic.

While friends are not easy to make, the ones you DO make, last a lifetime. You choose the ones that compliment your

life and make you feel whole…this takes careful assessment…this takes time. But those are the friends you CAN spend

time with without having to chat up a storm, but still feel like a million things were covered! A friend recently sent me an

email that had to do with why it was so important to have friends that were so different. It’s important to realise that there

are friends who are good to have around when you need to cry; friends who are good to be with when you need a good

laugh; friends who like the same movies as you; friends who understand that you tend to sleep through good theatre and

mean no disrespect; friends who understand your love for caramel fudge sweets and don’t question the intake; friends

who don’t mind the 5am wakeup call to stand in the freezing cold in the hopes of catching a fish…nothing guaranteed;

friends who love 2-hour phone calls; friends who appreciate your wicked sense of humour.

I hope you had all the important friends to take care of all the important times, Dad.

10. Maltebele. This one will always remind me of you, Dad. I shudder at the mere thought of the revolting stuff, but you

would travel the length of the Kruger Park to have it for breakfast! You would savour it along with your coffee and Ideal

Milk. And having reached number 10, I guess I shall leave it at that and possibly reserve the right to add to this important

list a little later.

As I rest the keyboard, I can already think of the next ten things that fit only you, Dad, and it makes me smile. Something

that has been quite hard to accomplish over the past few weeks. I wish I had started my list earlier…many years ago, in

fact. Maybe it would have been easier and taught me to observe and pay attention to the important little things a long time

ago – and remember them! I certainly watch the people in my life more closely now. I watch their individual personalities

and things that make them unique in my life. Go, Walt Disney for the fat wake-up!

I love you Dad – we ALL love you! I hope the stress and sadness have faded and you are restful and happy.

Annie xxx

Lesley ‘Annie’ Price, Cape Town 2007

IN YOUR WORDS