Sad times

It’s a big thing to lose a parent. My Dad died three weeks ago today and I am just emerging from the first onslaught of grief.
My father was such an amazingly zany personality it is hard to come to terms with him not being around anymore. Gavin Buchanan was the kind of person who could make any gathering totally come to life just with his presence. There was definitely some magic about my Dad, which meant my childhood was absolutely fantastic. My father was fun-loving and funny (although sometimes sad), a teaser, a joker, an opportunist, a dreamer, a talker of ‘big ideas’. He was handsome, dashing, creative, poetic, artistic, clever, unconventional, offbeat, unusual, dashing and smart but also naive...


Grief is a perplexing bundle of thoughts and feelings and I think each loss we have brings with it a different mix of emotions. There has been lots of ‘poor me’ stuff and some resentments to work through following my father’s death. For a little while my spiritual beliefs - particularly about the karmic accountability of our actions – also got a bit of a shake-up but I’ve come though all that. More recently I’ve been dwelling on the importance of family, on the progression of the generations (the song of long time flowing), and on my own mortality. I kind of like the notion of ‘going home’ one day to join all my family who have gone before me.


Interestingly I saw in the first week after Dad’s death an absolutely fascinating ABC ‘Australian Story ‘ episode about a harp player, Peter Roberts, who describes himself as a thanologist, one who plays music in hospitals to relax people at the end of their lives to allow them to let go and ‘go home’. Roberts is such a beautiful human being it made me cry (again) to listen to him talk about his own spirituality and the work he does to help the dying.


I have had been so lucky to have had lots of conversations and communications with friends and extended family in the past few weeks – including some friend I haven’t spoken to in many years. The lovely things that have been said about my Dad, and my Mum, and our family have validated how lucky I have been, and am, to have such a wonderful family and memories. Thank you to everyone who has been so kind to me.


Here’s one of the last pictures I took off my Dad in recent months - frail, sick and knowing he was dying but the spark of his personality is still very much there.

Goodbye dear Daddio!  I love you to bits. xxx