My dad died unexpectedly on June 11. He was 83, still working, still driving, still searching for the perfect glass of wine, still reciting Shakespeare, still living.
This line from the eulogy my brother gave says it best:
I haven't felt like blogging - or cooking, or even writing - but hopefully 'normal' service will resume soon. It will be the 'new normal', as they say in Christchurch as the ground roars under their feet. My dad dying feels like my own personal earthquake, but the only option is to pick up and keep going.You were never in any doubt about what Dad thought about something, he would want to be remembered for what he was and what he did, and not for what he wasn’t, and I can almost hear him telling us to get on with life, to look after Mum, make sure the wine was good, and to enjoy life as richly as he did
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