4th July

[joette]

I can remember what we were watching on TV "Scooby Doo" & that Mum was making Ayrshire's,sausages & peas.
I can remember the fear & trepidation in her voice as she called me up the stairs to their bedroom."I can't wake your Daddy"
The sun was shining & Dad was returning to work the next week after being "signed off" sick for a couple of weeks with stomach trouble-an ulcer the Doctor had declared which would be operated on at some later date if it didn't get better.
It was the Clydebank Fair & so Singer's where Dad worked was closed but I had taken his Sick Line up to the Gatehouse that day.
He was lying in the double bed where he & Mum slept in the "big bedroom" He still wore his lilac shirt(my Dad getting trendy!)& I shook him & shouted & then looked in fear at my Mum who could always make things better.She was shaking with fear.
"Run & get Mr Campbell" He lived a few houses down & was a very experienced St Andrews First Aider.
I can still remember the sickening fear & the tears that were racing down my cheeks & the prayers I cried "just make Daddy alright & I will never fight with him again"
The run to phone the Dr & to the neighbours the Kelsos to take the three wee ones away.The arrival of the police& the ambulance & my hadsome,strong Daddy being carried down the stairs over the shoulder of the ambulenceman like a bag of saggy coal.
My elder sister screaming at Mr Campbell that he was " a doddery old fool& that her Daddy was not dead" & her tears & shocked face as she returned from work.
My Mum & Uncle Tommy heading off to the Dr's at OK to where Dr McLean certified that he had died of a massive Myocardial Infraction.
My Uncle Jim arriving-I must have phoned him too but I don't remember & as I opened the door"Oh hello Uncle Jim my Dad is dead".
My best friend Elizabeth sleeping in the top bunk & me in the bottom of the "wee ones room" & I guess they were tucked up with my Mum.
I remember visiting the Coop Funeral Parlour & talking with him several times until it was Sat & time for the funeral.
I had my little brother Tommy to look after as I could not face the service & he was deemed too little.We went for the "Funeral Tea" & funnily enough it would be where my big sister had her wedding reception the following year.No Daddy to walk her down the Aisle my "Uncle"Jackie-my Dad's cousin & the nearest thing to a brother he had did the honours.
The Sunday Uncle Jim & Auntie Gertie took us all swimming & it was such a relief to do something normal.
So thirty-four years later+one day I can visualise almost every hour of that week.
It changed all of our lives for ever.In some ways we are a more compassionate loving family.We look out for each other & we expect to help each other out.We rarely fight I think we know how fragile life is.
We have all been very independent too not expecting the World to owe us anything.
Last night my Mum took Stephen(6) to lay flowers on Dad's grave."We went to the swings & got chips& we put flowers on my Daddy's Daddy's grave-did you know him?"
yes I did Stephen & a whole lot better than your daddy got the chance to as he was only just four when Daddy died.
I think when you lose a parent at a young age it changes your perception of the World-it becomes a much scarier place & you learn that parents are not immortal nor infalliable.
I still remember my Daddy though & I can still hear his voice in my head.

[emanday]

Joette,

I was 25 years old, 400 miles away and expecting my first baby, and my husband was away at sea (RN) when my brother-in-law phoned to tell me that my Daddy had died. I may have been a grown woman, but I too still remember that day in vivid memory.

The youngest of three, I was the only one born that had my Daddy with me all the time I grew up. And I mean, all the time, as he worked constant night shift, so he was there when I woke up and didn't leave for work till evening. His "night" was when I was either at my Gran's while Mum was at work and then while I was at school, and later still, while I was working. My brother and sister were both born in wartime.

He was my hero. When I think of him, as I am now, I can smell the jute and wool dye he always smelled of when he came home from night shift at Templetons carpet factory in Glasgow. To this day, the smell of new carpet gives me both a feeling of comfort and also loss.