Honouring my father

Kenneth Gordon Leach 1933 – 2010

My Dad! A beautiful man, who to the great sadness of my whole family suddenly died at home this morning whilst getting out of bed. I loved him very dearly, and was able to tell him so on many occasions, including yesterday when I spoke to him on the phone. I hugged him most times I saw him, the last time being last Thursday when he brought my middle son home from school because my youngest was ill. It is proving to be a source of great comfort to me now to know that I pushed myself through the discomfort of telling him of my love and of my gratitude toward him for being my father. I know it meant a lot to him, that he felt loved and appreciated by me.

Dad was immensely proud of me and my brothers and my sister. As we left my parents’ house this morning after the undertakers had taken Dad away I found a photo on the kitchen table that he had taken of me and my twin-sister when we were about two years old. In the photo we were sitting on the garden wall ‘reading’ an enormous cordon bleu cookery book. I believe he was planning to take this photo with him on the visit to his brother that was supposed to commence today.

Dad knew great sorrows in his life, and I feel privileged that he trusted me enough to speak of them with me at times. As a child he was evacuated to rural Wales during the war where he developed ‘behavioural problems’ which he attributed to the anguish of separation from his family. When his mother went to meet him at the end of the evacuation he didn’t recognise her; he subsequently experienced great regret about this. Then as a young man he married a woman who he loved very deeply and with whom he had two children, my two older brothers. Tragically his wife took her own life when the second son was still only a ‘babe in arms’. We believe this would now be understood to have been due to post-natal depression. Alas, this condition was little understood then. Dad suffered dreadful grief and in this state did not cope with the responsibilities of fatherhood. My eldest brother, then a toddler, went to live with my aunt and uncle. The baby was given to adoptive parents.

Only two years after this my Dad’s mother died from cancer.

Then Dad met Mum. :0)

They were introduced to each other by his aunt who taught at the college where Mum was training to be a teacher. My Great-Aunt Mabel is still alive at 98 years old and rang to speak to Mum today after hearing of Dad’s death. She expressed great gratitude to Mum for having been a wonderful wife to my father  through the 46 years of their marriage.

Mum and Dad married in 1964 and my eldest brother went to live with them. They were happy together and tried for babies! Alas, they endured the anguish of several miscarriages and a still birth before finally having twins (me and Marie) in 1967, then many years later a son (my youngest brother). The son lost to adoption was never forgotten, and the family was delighted when as a young man my eldest brother traced him. We all met him for the first time on the occasion of my eldest brother’s marriage, now 28 years ago. I think Dad was very happy to see us develop good relationships with the brother who we hadn’t known. Sadly Robert is suffering much himself at present as his wife is very seriously ill in hospital. My heart aches for him today hearing of his father’s death in that context.

I have said that Dad was a beautiful man; I mean that he had a beautiful spirit. This manifested in great kindness to others on a daily basis including great kindness to my mother, to his children, to his friends, and to strangers in need.  Dad was a Samaritan volunteer for a period of over 30 years. He also volunteered with the Cyrenians, a group providing practical help and friendship to homeless people. He also gave financial support to The Sylvia Wright Trust. Sylvia was good friends with Mum and Dad in the late 70s before leaving  England to build and run hospitals and schools for deaf children in India.

Dad was a very devout Christian, firstly as a Baptist (indeed, a Baptist lay-preacher!) and subsequently as a Roman Catholic convert. He became a eucharistic minister many years ago and unto death attended daily Mass. His faith led his approach to life, as did the learning he gained from attending ‘The Experience’ with me, Mum and many other members of our family.

Dad died a happy man. Although he had suffered great tragedies in life he was able to resolve them in himself. He experienced great love, and great joy, and great peace. Though I am grieving my loss I am able to let him go and cheer him on his way and be immensely grateful that he was my father.

The photo above was taken several years ago on the occasion of my youngest brother’s marriage. The photo below was taken just a few weeks ago when Dad was away on a short holiday break with my Mum.