Memories of Mum and Dad – Love from Jan…xo

Ernie

I hear my Dad joking around, giving his opinions on everything from who is with whom to the latest council proposals. I can see him shaking his head.  I see him sitting at the dining room table with a cup of coffee (or, later on in the day, his glass of wine or should I say, glasses) and the daily paper; outside hosing and tending to the garden with his funny hat on talking to all who walk by; yelling to shut the screen door and wipe the sand off your feet as you come inside.  Saturday mornings on his patio where it was open house, Ernie serving pikelets with strawberry jam and whipped cream to his friends and holidayers as they sat outside chatting with the beach directly in front of them. He loved to walk up to the Country Club for a beer and chat with his buddies; buy raffle tickets and play the pokies… he introduced me to the funny chicken poker machine. There is so much to tell about my Dad who took care of my Mum for twelve years, went through the loss of my brother during that time, and was always there to lend a helping hand to anyone who needed it. He made us laugh, he still makes me laugh. There are a thousand Ernie stories to tell. My Dad was always on hand to help anyone who was in need.  The old people at the nursing home who would slip out of their chairs at midnight and be afraid to call the administration as admin would transfer them over to the nursing home from their independent housing. It was my Dad they would call and with him, when I was at home, I would go and we would pull them back up into their chairs and they would be so thankful.  He delivered sherry to the oldies in the nursing home rooms and hide it in their closets as liquor was not allowed.

Early one morning I received to call from my Dad saying that he had won the lottery!! Next statement was he was in a syndicate with two other guys that had dropped out four years previous.  My Dad being my Dad called both fellows and said if you pay me what you owe my for the past four years I will split it with you.  One of the guys being Peter Sherrif who called my Dad “Gerry” (he was younger than my Dad). I am sure you will get the connotation!!  Peter had just gone through heart surgery and the money was welcomed.  Peter started up a restaurant in Nelson Bay (now I believe he has two) and said to my Dad “your meals are on the house at any time you wish”!!  When my Dad passed away the offer was on the table for me.  Going home for my Dad’s funeral and sorting out a lifetime of memories it was Peter Sherrif who delivered meals to me every day and catered my Dad’s funeral.  Karma!!

He had so many friends in Shoal Bay and the area.  So many friends that I am thankful to for being there for him for the many times that I was not able to be there.

I was told over and over again when I went home for his funeral that if I could have all the money that my Dad lent to people I would be a very rich girl. On January 8th 1998 my Dad left the people that loved him and I miss him terribly. He loved his friends and he loved my family and me and I miss him more than anyone will ever know. There isn’t anyone who loves you more than your parents; let them know how much you love them.

to be continued after photos….if you click on a photo it will enlarge and you can browse through if you wish.  Thanks.

Connie

My Mum was the best Mum any one could ever have.  She had voice like a nightingale and loved to sing around the house.  I only wish I had inherited her gift.  Instead I, along with my son, inherited her affliction for losing everything she ever laid a hand on.  She was always in a panic. She left wallets at phone booths on buses, if any transportation existed there was definitely something Mum owned on or in that vehicle.  Funny as hell. I loved to see her laugh.  Often as not she was called Lucy.  I swear she was just like Lucille Ball of “I love Lucy”.

She loved the water, was a magnificent swimmer and trained ferociously as a teenager tying two large kero cans tied together with rope, she swam with them trailing behind her neck.  She was a champion swimmer and I remember meeting some of her old trainers who said if she hadn’t had her tonsils burnt out she would have made the olympics.  Her tonsils burnt out?!  Yes she was in Sydney one day and had refused to go to hospital for fear of missing training and a race and decided to to let some quack burn them out.  Needless to say it was a bad move and the end result was  a serious infection and a hospital stay and she never went back to competitive swimming.

We moved around a lot.  Parramatta, Northmead, Marrickville, Coledale, Thirroul, Austinmer.  In between each town we would go back to my Nana’s to live till they decided where we would go next.  At one stage of the game we lived at Headlands Hotel overlooking the beach at Austinmer, that was fun.  My dad managed the bar there and it was quite the spot, still is I believe, Heady’s they called it.  All meals in the dining room, it was a treat being waited on hand and foot.

My Mum was an incredible cook.  She could rustle up anything.  Was always the first in town to try new things.  I vividly remember her bringing capsicum home and nobody that came for dinner knew what is was. Either did I!  My father would come home from work (from the pub) and announce to Mum he had invited people for dinner.  This was a regular occurrence in our household.   We never knew how many Dad would invite but Mum would always lay out a spread.  Of course pineapple, sausages, steak, eggs, yummies she would plate up for all from the Barbie.  Speaking of plates I also saw a few of them go flying through the air with spaghetti slapping up against the wall!! Missed dinners staying too long at the pub!!  I remember when Mum came to Canada and had a pizza (I had never had a pizza till I arrived in Canada).  Of course the minute she was back in Australia pizza was on the menu.

My Mum worked bloody hard her whole life and when the opportunity to retire to Shoal Bay came they jumped at it.  She loved the Bay.  We used to go there when I was small to visit friends’ of Mum and Dad.  A year or so later my Mum was in a head on collision with an army truck.  Sitting in the rear seat she hit her head on the seat in front.  My son Patrick was also in the car and came out with cuts and stitches to his head.  Luckily he was okay.  For eight months she was treated for a calcium deficiency only to find out that she had a brain tumour that was so deep-seated it could not be operated on.  Over a twelve year period my Dad took care of her. Occasionally she had to go into hospital but the majority of the time was spent at home.  My Dad feeding her, tending to her toiletries, doing her nails, plucking her eyebrows, there was not anything my father would not do for my mother.  Along with this working as well.  He truly was a saint.

My Mum loved the sea, loved hearing the cat’s stays brushing up against each other at night when the wind blew through them.   There used to be a cat rental in front of the house.  Dad and Ken Pryce would wheel her across the road to the beach, pick her up and lay her on the mat.  Gutsy lady, my Mum.

Although I went home thirty times before my Dad died to help out, to me, it still hasn’t been enough.  Living so far away takes a toll on one emotionally not being able to be close.  During this period of my mother’s illness was also when my brother was killed in a motorcycle accident in Tasmania.  I wonder a lot how much loss can one person can take, my Dad, for example.

The light of their lives was sending my son Patrick over to Australia, by the time he was nineteen he had been there fifteen times.  To me it was the only gift I could give them that mattered.  Patrick, when he was young, spent six months with them and I believe that that was one of the most precious times of their life.  He wasn’t supposed to stay for six months but my Mum kept pleading every month to let them have him a little longer.  When my Dad was without my Mum, Patrick was his shining light.  Now that I am a grandmother I understand what this meant to them.  I am blessed that my family is close at hand and and am thankful that they are in our life.

If you have read through my post thank you.  I did it for them, I did it for myself.  I have trouble dealing with the pain of losing people I love. I have great memories growing up in Australia with grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins that I love.  Then there were my grandparents and that’s another story, I can hardly think about them without crying.

A million thanks to those who cared for my Mum and Dad and were there for them when I wasn’t.  I have more photos to post of family and grandparents who were a big part of my life and I was thankful that I was a part of theirs.  Any stories or memories that can be added would sure be appreciated.  Thank you all again.   Jan xoxoxo