Today it is Father’s Day in Australia. Too often, all fathers are maligned with those fathers who perpetrate dreadful abuses against their children. For those many Dads’ that don’t harm their children I want to give you a salute to thank you for protecting our kids.
My father was a long serving Army officer. Not only did he defend and protect his own children he also defended his country at great cost to his own mental health. I know that there are many Dads’ in this situation and many families today who will be wishing their Dad were at home with them. My thoughts are with you all.
In tribute to our absent service fathers I wish to share the eulogy I wrote for my father’s funeral three years ago. This eulogy is offered as thanks to all the men who protect our children on a greater scale than just in their own homes. We appreciate you and wish you a safe return home. I also hope that other men follow in your footsteps and value, not hurt, our world’s children.
Eulogy to my Dad: a decorated soldier and protector of children.
Being conspicuous by my absence is a circle completed. Dad was absent for much of our formative years as he was off on tours of duty or fulfilling other Army imperatives. Well Dad, I get the final say on absence as irony now ensures that while I’m off on my own social justice tour of duty in London, I cannot make it home for your funeral. I would like to be there with you all, particularly for my four children and for Mum, but it is impossible. I am however, very glad I saw you Dad when I was home recently.
I am sure that others will mention Dad’s long and distinguished, decorated military service. The Grandkids may not know that, for them, Granddad has written an e-book about his years of service with Small Ships. It is on the web for them to read. Dad’s commentary begins with: The following narrative was initiated as something for my Children and Grandchildren to read and have an insight into the trials, tribulations, successes and failures of their father and grandfather. It is also a tribute to my wife who stood by me over those years. From the time we were married in 1960 and until I resigned in 1976, we had spent 109 months out of a total 188 separated because of service requirements.
Service aside, I want to remember something a little more personal, and quiet frankly, Dad’s career and long absences made it fairly awful for us as kids. However, I do want to acknowledge that it was the sum of Dad’s army and wartime experiences that led to my inherent social justice principal. Similarly, it was his great love of music that led to my passion for music and singing. His combined influence has legacy in my preference for Ballads and Folk music, however, my song repertoire always begins with Dad’s stock favorites from the Lloyd Webber operas.
When we were kids, Dad would go off and buy records for his own enjoyment, I would immediately commander the operas, learn them by heart, and sing merrily away with the headphones on while Dad would complain. My brother would often scratch Dads precious records so I wouldn’t play them, but in latter years, my brother would snitch the records for his own listening pleasure before I even got the chance to steal them off Dad. Many of you will remember me singing at local concerts when I was a young adult. Without fail, every solo that I sang was found in my father’s extensive collection. My father was the source of my choice: in more areas than music alone.
I sang my speech at my daughters 21st party when I came home four weeks ago. Coincidently it was Mum and Dad’s 43rd wedding anniversary. Dad asked why I didn’t sing something from Evita. I laughed and explained that I had intended to sing as my daughter arrived so that she would instantly know that I was home, but alas, bursting with anticipation I couldn’t keep my home coming a surprise and contacted her prior to her party. The surprise was foiled and Dad missed out on enjoying me sing his favorite song. I now sincerely regret that.
In honor of Dad then, please think of him when you hear music from Jesus Christ Superstar or Evita, not just when you hear the standard war time/Vietnam music. Along with being a distinguished hero, he was my Dad, a wonderful and passionate person, a lover of music and a protector of his children. The music that will be played at his Military funeral is not him – he was bigger than the Military. He was my Dad. He was the world.
To quote from Dad’s e-book: “Whenever a thing changes, and quits its proper limits, this change is at once the death of that which was before” (Lucretius, 1st century BC). This is juxtaposed against and contrasted with another of Dad’s quotes in relation to his service: “Make sure you tell it properly, as for many of us, the memories are all we’ve got.”
I remember that my father loved music. Not many people knew that.
I also remember that his career of service was to ensure freedom for all of you. I remember his sacrifice of missing out on his young family, his nightmares, his insomnia, posttraumatic stress, inability to watch certain programs on T.V, and health issues directly related to his service.
My father fought for your hope and freedom. Next time you drive up Hope Street, may you too reflect on your own contribution towards world hope. My Dad died having left each of you with the freedom to play your music of choice.
My son once said that Granddad was his hero. I know what you mean son; mine too.
I know my father was proud of me. I was proud of him too.
Salute and goodbye Dad. Thank you for protecting and loving us and for having protected every person here who has come to say goodbye to you. Your spirit of rights and protection has been passed to each of your children.