It was just over a month ago, that I was in the icy realm of the UK celebrating my father’s birthday, wedding and bringing in New Years Eve with him. Three wonderful moments in anyone’s life, sitting alongside one another in perfect unison on December 31st 2009
Already it feels like those dramatic 11 days were so long ago – but they will remain with me, both haunting and comforting me for the rest of my life. 44 hours up in the air, traveling along dark icy roads and celebrating my birthday at 33,000 ft over Eastern Europe admittedly wasn’t much fun, so it’s been an unusual and surreal start to 2010 to say the least.
It was a bitter sweet trip, the friends, family, conversations, laughs and smiles tapered with the unavoidable fact that my Dad is suffering deeply from advanced cancer, the pain of which is at times utterly debilitating and all consuming for him.
It is heartbreaking to see anyone in pain, but when it’s your own father, wincing in his sleep, as you patiently wait for the morphine to kick in and provide some respite, it is one of the most confronting & distressing images I think any child can be faced with.
During one of his better days, I sat there in his office, as it snowed outside, the world on mute as he stared out to the white horizon and calmly said, “I’ll be lucky to see out another Christmas like this”. There was a pause. And then silence.
He said it not with fear in his voice but with a calm air of resignation, as if he had accepted the reality he may very well face. I on the other hand couldn’t and still can’t. It was a chilling premonition to reconcile and it’s an even harder memory to now revisit.
I don’t think any amount of words can’t accurately do justice to the way it makes you feel hearing an admission of such gravity. The words hang in the air like dense thick soup. It’s even more saddening when deep down, despite your best attempts, part of you is inclined to agree with that assertion.
I am truly a believer in the advances, power and resolve of science, I have a tremendous amount of faith and admiration for doctors. They helped him overcome the illness 10 years ago, but when you’re privy to terms like “quality of life” being banded around, it’s a sobering realization that there might not be a repeat performance.
But one thing I do know, with absolute certainty, is that December 31st 2009 will go down as one of the happiest days in his life, his wife Jules’ and mine.
From the church to the reception, to the dinner and the celebrations – I watched with my camera from the sidelines, trying to capture moments, the real essence of the occassion, its wealth of emotions, the warmth of the day and the hopefulness which permeated all four corners of it.
And what I saw above all was my real Dad shining through, with his new wife and sweet-natured daughter (and my sister) by his side.
He was utterly and thoroughly in the moment, to the point where I don’t think he even realized he was in pain. He reminded me of the man I had seen 6 years ago on my trip previously – larger than life, looking a little older but still as charismatic, bold and magnanimous as ever.
The distractions of well-wishers, outrageous stories, refills of red wine and unanimous bursts of laughter from the whole room utterly eclipsed whatever doom and gloom the previous days had brought.
The look of anguish and frustration, which had been riddled across his face since I arrive a few days before, was replaced that booming laugh, his eyes often tightly shut in fits of giggles and his trademark smile sat squarely touching ear to ear.
Mind over matter say they say.
It was a day filled with endless smiles, heartfelt tears and recollections of wonderful stories – the likes of which even the most brilliant imagination couldn’t conjure up.
What was almost instantly highlighted to me was just how much of an impact my Dad’s life, his generosity, support, advice and the experiences that he shared had genuinely had on others.
I was deeply proud to be his son that day. I saw another side to one of the most important individuals in my life and it was a side, which I had all too frequently underestimated all my life I think.
And I knew deep down, that even if this was to be his final public appearance before his illness became too overwhelming, he couldn’t have asked for a better finale, it was a graceful, dignified, compassionate and deeply moving end to just one of the chapters in his life.
I can only hope that when I get to his age, that I too am surrounded by such fantastic company with so many true and genuine characters.
It was as if we all existed in another place, a happier time, willing to leave our fears and preconceived ideas at the door and simply embrace each other – a genuine camaraderie brought and bound together by his legacy, love and friendship.
Getting married is suppose to be the happiest day of your life and I think the events of that day, with family and friends reunited, birthdays and New Years Eve celebrations entwined, all served as a rock solid signed, sealed and delivered declaration that everyone was utterly lost in the magic and memories of it all.
I can only hope, that at least some of my photos managed to capture even the faintest hint, of such a truly magnificent time in all our lives.
I love you Dad.
Your son
