kirmy
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2014
- Messages
- 748
I had a dream in my semi conscious state in economy class row 61c. In this dream my brother and sister were gathered around my fathers death bed and I was massaging oil into his legs and hands. I illicited my brothers help to roll him over and rub oils into his back and heels. It was such a loving and peaceful moment. Dad took his final breath as we did this. I thought to myself you have bestowed upon me so many gifts. You father have given me wicked and outrageous humour, kindness and a deep and abiding love for animals. The gifts are too numerous and readily given to name.
I awoke thinking about the gifts bestowed upon me now in my life. I thought about my boss who gave me a leg up in the offshore industry because he holds my abilities in high esteem. I thought about the many loving friends who were waiting for me to hold and to nurture I thought about my loving, patient and kind partner of how he fills each day with beautiful companionship too precious to describe. And I thought about my fathers passing, a gift, a transcendent moment away from pain. I thought about how truly he expressed his love for me in every phone call every word and how he promised he'd always look after me. Gifts.
I left the plane in Kula Lumpur strangely serene after my dream. I was hungry and tired and stopped at a little traditional Malaysian cafe for a Luxa curry. The man who served me was so disarmingly kind and gentle. He smiled with such warmth at me I thought...a gift, he is giving me a gift. My thanks for the delivery of my meal was of the deepest sincerity. I savoured the delicious fragrances and flavours. It was then my phone buzzed.
Call urgentLy love Georgina. I knew. I phoned mute and tired as she told me he died that morning at 10am while I was flying to KL. I didn't cry I just matter of factly finished my drink and sought out an immediate distraction. Next door to the cafe was a spa and health centre offering massage. A sweet faced cubby man sat behind the desk welcoming me with a twinkle in his eye. I recognise that twinkle. I blurted out "my father just died" and stood shell shocked in the the lobby. He paused and look down at his hands then made eye contact with me..."maybe then I will pray". Yes. Yes that will be a good idea thank you. I had a truly beautiful massage and floated into a dreamless sleep before my flight. His words resonated to me. He offered me solace in his faith. A beautiful Muslim man opened a small part of his soul to my grief and offered his blessings to a man he'd never met. A gift.
I arrived tired and battered from my 47hr commute. I picked up my hire car from a hilarious young Australian man who enthused to me how BMW drivers are wankers and that my hire car was indeed shite as I surmised. He offered me a muscle car but I noted I would be driving into hippie central highlands and they might stage a dirty protest and throw hand made sanitary towels at it. He agreed it would be better to be understated muttering "dirty hippies". He is training to be a primary school teacher. Such delight and mischievousness should be fostered and provoked. I told him he would make the perfect teacher. He smiled and blushed. He welcomed me and meant it.
When I arrived my frail and broken mother flew out to the car as I unloaded the bags hungry to tell me her news, to hug me to grieve. I ushered her inside like a school marm. Shhh shhh it's alright. My sister, uncle and Dad's best friend were there. They told me that Dad told them he had to pick me up from the airport. Just before he died my sister arrived and said "it's ok Dad I'm here now you can go"! He thought it was me and took his final breath after smiling and spitting his false teeth out at Mum. Even in death he had the last hurrah.
My brother arrived soon after my return. I felt restless and unsettled so decided to go in a curry hunt at 10pm on a Sunday night in the Australian suburbs. We found a Methie restaurant that still had its doors open and piled inside. A siek man reluctantly told us he was closing and I apologised for my late hours. He gave me the kindest look and asked me to accept his dinner. "What"? He repeated himself. I replied...I cannot and will not take a mans dinner. He asked me to please take it. He gives food every day to homeless people and those in need and he would be happy to share his food with me. I pulled out my credit card and he refused it. A man walked out of the kitchen and handed me a bag with paneer curry and rice in it. I stood dumb founded. Thank you. Thank you for this gift. I feel so privileged. I drove away deeply moved by his loving gesture determined to show my gratitude at the first opportunity.
The hardest trip in my life has been paved with loving, gentle and giving gestures every step. These expressions of beauty embody the human spirit that my father resonated. His funeral is on Saturday and we have had to change the venu as the is over 200 people coming. My dear old Dad has fans. I guess he was just easy to love. He was a gift.
I will take some of Dad's ashes home with me to Scotland and scatter them where his father was born in Sutherland. I'll also scatter some in the central bar in Mallaig and in Billy the Divers pint when he is not looking. Dad would be delighted at my wickedness. After all he has given me it is the least I can do.
I awoke thinking about the gifts bestowed upon me now in my life. I thought about my boss who gave me a leg up in the offshore industry because he holds my abilities in high esteem. I thought about the many loving friends who were waiting for me to hold and to nurture I thought about my loving, patient and kind partner of how he fills each day with beautiful companionship too precious to describe. And I thought about my fathers passing, a gift, a transcendent moment away from pain. I thought about how truly he expressed his love for me in every phone call every word and how he promised he'd always look after me. Gifts.
I left the plane in Kula Lumpur strangely serene after my dream. I was hungry and tired and stopped at a little traditional Malaysian cafe for a Luxa curry. The man who served me was so disarmingly kind and gentle. He smiled with such warmth at me I thought...a gift, he is giving me a gift. My thanks for the delivery of my meal was of the deepest sincerity. I savoured the delicious fragrances and flavours. It was then my phone buzzed.
Call urgentLy love Georgina. I knew. I phoned mute and tired as she told me he died that morning at 10am while I was flying to KL. I didn't cry I just matter of factly finished my drink and sought out an immediate distraction. Next door to the cafe was a spa and health centre offering massage. A sweet faced cubby man sat behind the desk welcoming me with a twinkle in his eye. I recognise that twinkle. I blurted out "my father just died" and stood shell shocked in the the lobby. He paused and look down at his hands then made eye contact with me..."maybe then I will pray". Yes. Yes that will be a good idea thank you. I had a truly beautiful massage and floated into a dreamless sleep before my flight. His words resonated to me. He offered me solace in his faith. A beautiful Muslim man opened a small part of his soul to my grief and offered his blessings to a man he'd never met. A gift.
I arrived tired and battered from my 47hr commute. I picked up my hire car from a hilarious young Australian man who enthused to me how BMW drivers are wankers and that my hire car was indeed shite as I surmised. He offered me a muscle car but I noted I would be driving into hippie central highlands and they might stage a dirty protest and throw hand made sanitary towels at it. He agreed it would be better to be understated muttering "dirty hippies". He is training to be a primary school teacher. Such delight and mischievousness should be fostered and provoked. I told him he would make the perfect teacher. He smiled and blushed. He welcomed me and meant it.
When I arrived my frail and broken mother flew out to the car as I unloaded the bags hungry to tell me her news, to hug me to grieve. I ushered her inside like a school marm. Shhh shhh it's alright. My sister, uncle and Dad's best friend were there. They told me that Dad told them he had to pick me up from the airport. Just before he died my sister arrived and said "it's ok Dad I'm here now you can go"! He thought it was me and took his final breath after smiling and spitting his false teeth out at Mum. Even in death he had the last hurrah.
My brother arrived soon after my return. I felt restless and unsettled so decided to go in a curry hunt at 10pm on a Sunday night in the Australian suburbs. We found a Methie restaurant that still had its doors open and piled inside. A siek man reluctantly told us he was closing and I apologised for my late hours. He gave me the kindest look and asked me to accept his dinner. "What"? He repeated himself. I replied...I cannot and will not take a mans dinner. He asked me to please take it. He gives food every day to homeless people and those in need and he would be happy to share his food with me. I pulled out my credit card and he refused it. A man walked out of the kitchen and handed me a bag with paneer curry and rice in it. I stood dumb founded. Thank you. Thank you for this gift. I feel so privileged. I drove away deeply moved by his loving gesture determined to show my gratitude at the first opportunity.
The hardest trip in my life has been paved with loving, gentle and giving gestures every step. These expressions of beauty embody the human spirit that my father resonated. His funeral is on Saturday and we have had to change the venu as the is over 200 people coming. My dear old Dad has fans. I guess he was just easy to love. He was a gift.
I will take some of Dad's ashes home with me to Scotland and scatter them where his father was born in Sutherland. I'll also scatter some in the central bar in Mallaig and in Billy the Divers pint when he is not looking. Dad would be delighted at my wickedness. After all he has given me it is the least I can do.
