Miles of Smiles Part One

Getting There . . .

It was a road trip that we had dreamt of, discussed and planned for months, and it was finally here.

My girls awoke me at one in the morning, we packed Daisy to the hilt and headed off to the coast, I was the designated driver and Nicole sat next me riding shotgun and keeping me awake.

Nighttime, toll roads and tarred roads as long as Granddad's tales of "when I was your age", as the road rose to meet us I found myself as relaxed as a fatboy eating a bucket of KFC and not having to share. With the sound of Sugarman humming in the background, i reflected on the past year, tough - yes, lonely - hell yes, rewarding - undoubtably. The sacrifice that my girls and I had made when I took on my Lesotho adventure had made this holiday possible, this was the icing on the top complete with a lit candle and singing voices.
We drove and chatted and sang our lungs out, my version of white man rapping had my girls hiding their heads in shame ad thus I persevered. By the time we got to Grahamstown, it was 40'C and we were melting, no-one was singing anymore and Simon was as pale as she was red and flushed, it was as if someone had switched the cold water off in a shower we could not escape. This continued for and hour and a half and then we saw the ocean. We had arrived in JBay.

My Mom met us with hugs and a smile that I had sorely missed and I went through to see my Dad.
He was lying on his bed. He looked like a stroke victim with a huge scar on his arm when he had had a plate inserted after he had broken it. I was shocked and shaken, but put on a brave face, afterall this was my Father, my hero, the man who loved and encouraged me to reach the sporting standards I had, and now he was lying here staring ahead with no recognition of me at all. My Mom came into the room and I put my arm around her and we chatted about Dad, how she managed to stay so positive through all of this will remain with me forever. The words "for better or for worse, through sickness and in health till death us do part" brought a tear to my eye and I rubbed it away quickly.
In the days ahead my Dad would improve and slowly get stronger, the Parkinsons has eaten away at him yet he fights it daily with the aid of a loving wife who refuses to give up and leave her partner of 48 years. Were it not her, my Dad would have left us years ago.
She feeds him, washes and clothes him and changes him when he has messed himself, she talks to him throughout it all and lies with him when he sleeps. She is as protective over him as a teenager with her first Blackberry.

We had arrived, tired, hot but happy.

December Beckons

I started writing this blog under a heading entitled "Lovers" and then I basically ran out of words of the positive nature.
Why?
Well I contemplated that as we approached Christmas, it was the time that more suicides are committed than any other time of the year, so I have decided to entitle it "Surviving Christmas".

My first 2 Christmas's after my divorce were absolute hell and I longed for the day to end and for folk to leave me alone, I could see through their smiles as their eyes told me that they felt sorry for me. It was a time where was it not for my beautiful Simon and Nicole, I would have fled and just kept running.
However, friends embraced us, they welcomed us into their homes and they acted normally and didnt make a fuss over us, they allowed us to hide, blend into the shadows and withdraw when it became too much.
My 3rd Christmas was much better and I was able to interact and my girls and I smiled and joined in, we had found our niche and our reduction from 4 to 3 was now stronger than ever, bless you Brian, Dee, Zane and Trav.

Financially the past three years have been all about survival and in most cases we were not even able to give gifts, this for me was a humbling experience as I battled to receive and not return the favour. On reflection it was a time where I truly learnt more in that period of my life about grace, love, compassion and God working through people as they blessed us with gifts, love and even food.Our first Christmas together was 2 weeks after the divorce and I was so broke that homeless folk slept better than I, I had no home a Fiat Uno with all my worldly possessions in it and we were housesitting a friend of a friends home. A friend took me off to Pick and Pay and bought us groceries for the holidays so that I wouldn't have to worry about feeding my girls. I will never forget that.

So this year, my wish for you and me is the same, find some friends, family or loved ones. If you have none of these then make an extra plate or two of food and drop them off with folk who would appreciate them, any old age home will have forgotten folk who will welcome sharing a cup of tea with you.

I plan to visit my folks, my Dad with advanced Parkinsons no longer remembers me and it pains me to see him in this state, but the memories are so alive and filled with love that it will be great to see him. My Mom is the rock that has and still does keep us as a family together and I have so much love and respect for her.

Dont leave it till the last minute, start your planning now and make it a Christmas to remember.


Nite All

Resistance Fighter

It is spoken of men and woman who are willing to offer over and above all the others, who will stand up in the time of hardship and persecution to fight for the unknown, the weary and the underprivileged. When one sees a situation as more than just a passing occurrence and recognises the drastic impact it could have on generations, it is then recognised as a "cause".

Are you willing to add your skills and heart to such an experience and accept the rank of "Resistance Fighter"?
Would you move silently in the shadows and between the sleeping when your every breathe sounds as loud as a gale force wind in a forest? Would you protect the unprotected and nourish and feed them at your expense and expect nothing in return?

Could you call yourself a Resistance Fighter?

Dedicated to a special woman, divorced with child to whom surrendering is not an option.