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Today, four years ago, my Dad passed away. It was expected, sad yet a relief. Anyone who has watched a beloved parent struggle with the loss of dignity that accompanies very old age will understand that mixture of emotions. Dad loved a good shirt and Mum loved to buy him shirts so tonight's puzzle is a selection of beautiful men's dress shirt fabrics.

Dad passed on to meet with his Saviour. Dad was the finest gentleman and a gentle man too. His priorities were - God first, his beloved wife Trish, second, family - children, grandchildren, sister, brothers, third; and church, the community, his work and responsibilities shifting according to circumstances and demands.
He was honest to a fault, a workaholic, a great host, and despite being kak-handed, not as in left handed, but as being really bad at practical tasks, he would uncomplainingly shift furniture, hang wallpaper (he got quite good at that) and do the washing up to help Mum.

Despite hating hospital visiting, if Mum was in hospital for any of the numerous times she landed up there, he would visit her afternoon and evening, sitting there quietly to keep her company. He adored her and would take up the cudgels on her behalf if he thought it was warranted.

He was a naturally impatient man who could be endlessly patient if it was needed. Dad spent many evenings when I was 14 and 15 trying to get the fundamentals of algebra and geometry to make sense to me. It was one of the few things that he failed utterly. He was considerably more successful in teaching me punctuality and the ethics of hard work and diligence.

At the end, he still did not want to go on, mostly because he worried about Mum and how she would fare without him. Despite his great faith he fought to the end. Dylan Thomas has it right:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Credits: Mood Fabrics, Ralph Lauren, Thibaut Design, IndiaMart, Schumacher, Joann, Rebecca Atwood, Kravet Design, Wayfair, Sailrite, Online Fabric Store, Waverly, Perigold, Philip Jeffries, Cole & Son
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That's okay Anne. (*~*)


Sorry Jayne - that sounded like my laid back grandfather who did lots himself but mostly a backyard handyman. He also did jigsaw puzzles on the sunroom table and I was allowed to join him. The Jack of all trades and perfectionist was my father. (*~*)


Dad and Mum were fortunate enough to have a couple of very dear friends and John was much like your grandad, capable of turning his hand to any household repairs. Mum would just ask John to pop by and change a washer, or fix a door and hw would obligingly pop around, toolkit in hand. In return Dad sorted out his taxes. The system worked very well!


Thanks for the puzzle (*~*)


Loved the tribute to your Dad Jayne.
Sounds a lot like my maternal grandfather who was dearly loved and loving, although also like my father except he was not good showing affection to his family. However on the good side "he was a jack of all trades and master of most (if not all)". He was a mechanic by trade, welder, did carpentry and electrical work, metal work, drawing, sign writing, painting - walls and cupboards, building (the rest of the house) after the war years, photographer, projectionist, church and community involved. Probably more that I haven't noted but you get the idea and most of it was self taught. Inside the house was Mum's domain so Dad had to learn to do all things domestic after Mum passed away 18 years before him.
I can still remember him calling out to me (in bed) for spelling a word while writing letters in the evening. That was my forte, not his. I don't think we ever had a tradesman come to do jobs at the house because Dad did them all. He did not ever have a bank loan - everything was done after it was saved for - hence he did not understand mortgages, car payments etc.
Praise for our fathers Jayne - some never know what having a father is like. (*~*)


Oh for sure Max. Miss those hugs!


Your Dad and mine would have been fast friends! Mine loved his shirts, from pastels to polka dots! I miss my Dad too and he's been gone since 1984! But his spirit and the love he had for us lives on in my heart, as does your Dad's memory! Still, we wish we could give them a big hug, don't we!


Thanks Kirsten. His memory is definitely more love than pain. We are very grateful that neither he nor my mum had to go through lockdown. Bless you. Jayne


I'm sorry for the loss of your Dad, he sounds like a wonderful man. Thank you for the puzzle. I hope his memory brings more love than pain.
(I keep getting the urge to go to fabric shops and spend money after doing these puzzles. Possibly a good thing that we're in lockdown and I can't!)

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