Old Friends and Photographs

Missing the Man in the Mirror 

My sister shared a photo of Dad recently and just commented, "Missing this man"

I smiled at the image and replied "Me too"

Its been a few weeks since we said our final goodbyes to Dad and although I have not shed tears every day I have missed him every day. 

When I retired 6 years ago, Dad became a huge part of my weekly routine. Monday we did his shopping and collected his prescription. Tuesday we organised a visit to the pub. Wednesday was cleaning and foot soaking day and Thursday was the sing a long at the local pub.. Friday he went for a pint with Uncle Colin and I ordered his taxi and Saturday was a day off with Sunday being a carvery or a meal out at another local pub.

In between there were hospital visits, chiropodist appointments and visits to the local barbers! I have a file full of Dad’s hospital appointments and another one full of his chequebooks. 

On Tuesday 24th August 2021 at 12.05am all that stopped!  

My routine would no longer include Dad and I hadn’t realised in that moment how much I was going to miss him.

We are all guilty of getting annoyed and frustrated at our elderly parents and I am no exception. Ironically it is those annoying little habits that I am now missing the most.

The way he tested the door 4 times after it was locked. The way he picked out the bits of strawberry in his strawberry trifle, the little whistle he made when he was getting bored with your conversation. His insistence on having Gammon Steak for a meal then spending the next 20 minutes using a toothpick to dislodge all those bits stuck in the gaps of his teeth! The way he washed his fingers rather than his hands and his fascination with the words on the beer mat. 

I miss the guy that placed beer mats over his pint pot, smiled at his reflection in the mirror and never went anywhere without lip balm and a toothpick. I miss the guy who never carried a wallet or paid for anything with loose change, instead he saved all his copper and silver coins in a box for when the grandkids went on holiday!

I miss the man who was always cold and hated flies. I miss cups of tea and crossword puzzles and reading the obituary page in the Barnsley Chronicle. 
I miss his selective hearing and his chat up lines. I miss his continual desire to get on an aeroplane and travel somewhere hot, not forgetting his need for the toilet just before getting on a plane, train or automobile.
I miss the guy who always stayed in the background supporting those he loved and cared about. I miss the guy who was a man of principle and strong opinions. This no doubt lost him some friends and most certainly lost him access to a few pubs in the village but it most definitely gained him respect amongst his work colleagues and his friends.

On the day of his funeral the church was full. This was an indication to me of how much he was loved and respected and how many other people were going to miss him.

 I had the privilege of  being  able to stand at the front of the church with my two sisters and read his eulogy. I called it Dad’s Dash or The Measure of the Man. The dash referred to the small dash on the headstone between birth and death. Although the dash is small it represents a whole life. As I was reading the eulogy I tried to take a mental picture of all those who had taken the time to come to church to remember Dad. 

There were old friends, relatives, carers, neighbours and drinking pals. 
But there were two guys sitting near the front of the church that I couldn't quite place. They followed us to the graveside and took one of the roses we offered and smiled as they placed the rose into the ground. I heard one of them say,
“There you go Gebber! See you on the other side!”
Later at the pub they came to find us holding three photographs of Dad as a young man. They were keen to add to Dad’s Dash! 

They introduced themselves as old friends and talked fondly of the young man they knew as “Gebber” A school friend and a work colleague. A guy who gave most of his wage to his mother but who saved up for a car and then took all his mates to the seaside for a day trip. They said he always said he wanted a big car and they were pleased to learn that he treated himself to a Bentley. They didn't realise he became a councillor or a JP but remarked that he was always someone who spoke his mind so it didn't surprise them.

They picked him out in the old photographs and they remembered the young man who played football for the youth club and who played the bugle in the boys brigade. 
They lost touch with him when he married mum. Apparently word on the street was that he’d met quite a catch with a ready-made family and they were sorry that they never met mum. Ironically they read the Barnsley Chronicle and that's how they had learned that he had died! They had come to the church together to remember their friend 50 yrs. after losing touch! 

That was the measure of the man. 
Once met…. always remembered and missed by many for lots of different reasons. 

We celebrated Dad’s birthday recently. He would have been 82. He wasn't with us in person but he was certainly with us in spirit. We went to his local pub. Drank his favourite beer and talked about him all night. We even read beer mats and took toothpicks!

Dad will be missed and I have no doubt that there will be many moments of sadness as we come to terms with our loss. However I also know that there will memories that make us laugh and most of those will include his quirky ways and his annoying little habits.
If you have an elderly relative or friend who is driving you mad with their quirky little ways, rest assured that in time those odd little habits will be the things that make you smile so treasure them and remember them and add them to your "Dash." 

Every Picture Tells a Story

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

For me a photograph captures a moment in time. I take a photograph of something I want to remember. 

Only those in the know can see behind the lens. Only those in the photograph really know the story, but for me every photograph that I take tells a little bit of my story.

My photographs document my life. They remind me of the places I have been and the people I have met. I don’t often think about capturing a particular moment but when I look I back I am pleased I had my camera. Sometimes I ask myself "what ever possessed you to take that shot?" 

This photograph was taken on the 18^th December 2010.
It was my sisters 52^nd birthday.
Mum was in an nearby room.
She should have been on the photo. It’s the first family photo without her. There’s even a space where she would have stood and smiled with us, somewhere between Pam and my dad.

Mum died 24hrs later. We all knew she was dying, but we were all smiling on the photo. Why is that? 

Its because that’s what you do when someone points a camera at you. 

You hide your feelings and smile even if you are hurting. I still look at this photo and cry. I’m still glad it was taken. Its part of my life and part of my journey.

It took me a long time to look at the photograph below. I almost deleted it and I often wonder how and why I took it. 4 years later I am pleased I kept it. 

Mum was dying, but we were all there, we were all trying to smile but if you look closely you can see the hurt. We were singing Happy Birthday and mum wanted to be a part of it. I remember taking the shot and thinking "is this appropriate?" But I always took photos on family birthdays, thats what I do. It never occurred to me that this birthday should be any different. Of course it was so different.

 For Pam it was the last birthday she would spend with her mum and she knew it. I knew how hard mum had fought to be around for this birthday. It was her goal if you like. Pam kept saying its the worst birthday ever but she still smiled for the camera!!! Now I am different to Pam because I thought it was great that she could spend her birthday with mum and I just wanted to capture the memories. I know that Pam will struggle with this shot and I understand why. I just hope she understands what I see in the shot and why I took it.

Yes, it’s upsetting to see how ill mum was but as time has passed I now see the love in this photograph. I know there are those who may only see a dying lady but when I look at this shot I see a family loving a very special lady. I see her son in laws holding her hand, her grandchildren smiling, her daughters singing. Mum was actually trying to sing and she was smiling and she was pleased we were there.

So you see every picture does tell a story and I think that this one is quite powerful but I apologise if it hurts anyone. That is not my intention.

 12 months ago I found myself in a similar situation. My grandson was born still and asleep but there I was with my camera! I wasn't sure whether to take my camera into the delivery room or not, but the midwives said it was OK and so did Lauren and Nick. I remember Lauren commenting "Bet you've brought your camera?"Once again I just found myself taking photographs. I can understand anyone asking the question "Who would take a photograph of a baby that isn't breathing?"Yet it seemed the natural thing to do and I am so glad that I captured these shots.

Who would know from these photographs that the baby in the cot wasn’t breathing? That the little bundle cradled in his parents arms is asleep and will not wake up. The joy on Lauren’s face is real. The smile on Nick’s face is real. Harry was born and he brought joy. That’s what I see when I look at these photographs

Without my camera people would never believe the happiness that was in that delivery room if only for a short time. Only a handful of people met Harry and these photographs show how beautiful he was and how much joy he brought to those who met him.

Harry would have been one year old on the 15th May 2014. These photographs make me smile and for those of you that know me and my family you will know that they helped raise the awareness of still birth

                                                                                               

 For me, taking photographs  is so important

So I will continue to capture the moments of my life through a lens. 

I hope that when you look at a photograph in the future you will try to look behind the smile because……..

                          "Every picture I take does tell my story."