In memory of Ernest John Holmes a true Gentleman.
our dad was a true gentleman
Our dear dad passed away peacefully in his sleep last Wednesday -19th May 2021 - at home.
Me and mum are pretty exhausted as he'd been very poorly with cancer since last Autumn. I was taking care of them at their home in Filey since the CCP Virus arrived last Spring and also dear mum fractured her spine last Summer.
I had begun writing a eulogy with dad, which was about where he was born, where he grew up, his family, schools, his time at technical college, his apprenticeship and work, how he’d met my mum and other happy memories. I took it to Bristol in April when I had a quick visit home and thought I’d best put it somewhere safe. Then I forgot where the somewhere safe place was and I lost it.
When I returned to Filey, I told dad and he said “Don’t worry about it, people will have forgotten about it in 2 weeks anyway. We can write another one.” and then he died before we’d got the chance.
How on earth is anyone able to capture another’s life in a few sentences with a few stories? I decided the best thing to do was to write the first things down that came to my mind. I am sure a lot of these memories will be shared by you too -
As many of you know, I have practiced Falun Dafa for over a decade. It’s an ancient Buddhist meditation practice that teaches the Universal Principles of Truthfulness, Compassion and Tolerance, and I try my best to stick to it. I was fortunate enough to be off to a good start because my parents brought me up with these values and good morals, so the foundations were instilled in me from a very young age. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for this.
Dad was a good, honest man, loyal, strong, not demonstrative, not overly sentimental, he called a brick a brick. He was incredibly kind and patient. He didn’t shy away from responsibility, nor did he interfere with others’ lives. He reminded me of an old Taoist sage, as he always assured me ‘Things will always work out. Don’t worry, things will work out because they have to.’
He was sure that the best way to approach life, and when making decisions, was not to rush in to things nor force things. To let it all pan out. He would say to me ‘I let the action take me. I can sit here for days pondering over something and working it out in my mind and then when I get up to go and do it, I know exactly where everything is that I need and how to do it and it usually works out ok’. He always struck me as being very conservative with his time and energy, using it well, and putting in effort where it was needed most and he kept a very simple life, not complicated.
He enjoyed peace and tranquillity and his own space and time. He loved reading the paper and he’d say to me ‘I read everything and yet I don’t believe everything. I use my own discernment.’ and ‘Don’t believe everything you read. Question everything.’
He loved the conservatory, where we would often find him sitting at the table doing jigsaws enjoying the heat. Sometimes he’d sit there with earphones on happily tapping his feet to the music in his pink crocs - off in his own little world. Singing aloud. He was a good singer. And whistler.
Recently I used to love it when he was watching ‘Allo Allo’ on the TV on a night wearing his earphones as he would laugh out loud, taking you by surprise, and his laughter was always infectious.
Another side of dad was really sociable. He loved everyone and saw the good in people and he always made time for everyone. As you know, he loved his trips to the pub in the evenings in his earlier years in Bramley or afternoons in Filey where he would laugh away with his friends or sit quietly to read his paper, play or watch snooker enjoying a pint or two.
Dad had vast amounts of knowledge about an array of things. He taught me and my sister Debbie the things we needed to sail through life. He took pride in his work, and he really worked hard to support his family. When I was little I loved going to work with him in the school holidays and handing him his tools. He often acted out of kindness and helped many at short notice who needed a little job doing and often for nothing in return.
We had a wonderful home growing up in Bramley which my parents worked hard to renovate over the years. It was very old, with a huge garden where he grew a lot of tomatoes and vegetables right down at the bottom next to the railway line, and the whole family would spend hours there together gardening and playing. I remember we had chickens, a goat, some ducks and other animals and his greenhouses were always filled with tomatoes. He loved sitting in the sun shirt off reading his paper with a beer after work and BBQ’s. There were many street parties and much food sharing and people popping in, family and friends and even strangers as our door is always open.
We had many camping trips together in the UK and abroad with friends. We also enjoyed the spontaneity of him getting home from work and getting us to ‘Just sling a few things in the car’ and we’d be off with our tent or to visit a relative for a weekend away.
He put me through University, and visited me when I lived in Singapore and we went on some great adventures together in South East Asia. In later years once again we travelled in a camper van which he loved especially retracing the route of the Tour de France high up in the Pyrenees with Neil and visiting friends in France.
More recently, as he began to lose the use of his hands and the sensations in his fingers, due to his spinal cord being trapped by bulging cartilage in his upper back from wear and tear, it seemed to me this troubled him much more than the cancer. He had always used his hands.
In order to cheer us both up and give us something to do together during lockdown last year, I made a website called ‘Carry Forth Tradition’ and my dad had his own blog page called ‘Wisdom From a Grumpy Old Man’ to share some of his experience and tips about growing tomatoes, beans and onions in his mini-allotment. We had a great time growing things together, as we had when I grew up at our home on Elder Road.
On his blog there are some videos we made together of him in action growing tomatoes, beans and onions from seed to harvest, recorded over time. I’m so glad I made these short films and I think he quite liked the stardom!
Every morning we would take his little dog Edie out with my dog Connie either to the beach, where we’d stop and chat with friends, or we’d go to the country park, or to the ‘Pitch and Put’ then to stand on the cliff tops and watch the sea whilst Edie ran up and down the cliff playing with her ball.
I enjoyed this daily time with my dad, moments I will always treasure. He was a voice of reason and I will miss his rational outlook on life that has helped me along my way. Despite trying to absorb everything he taught me, I remember only what I could manage! He was always so bright and cheerful and our family would spend lots of time laughing and telling jokes and making fun of each other. And arguing!
In the last week, when dad was in bed, he was instructing me to look for things that meant something to him, that he wanted us to keep, or pass to someone else and I had to go in to his shed for those things. Well, if you’ve ever been in there, you’d appreciate it was a task. I don’t think he ever threw anything away as he valued objects usefulness, and that it ‘might come in handy’ later.
It was the same where I grew up on Elder Road, he had a cellar and an outhouse, and he kept some beautiful and interesting things. I have fond memories of his tools and of strange objects I have no idea about. Some from his father and grandfather who were also skilled in plumbing and heating and engineering. Other things rescued from a skip or scrounged.
A pretty little bunch of tiny flowers my dad once picked for me in France. We put them in a glass egg-cup on the camping table. He often did little things like this. His actions said it all.
One day whilst rummaging through things in the shed, I stopped in my tracks, I’d seen it many times before but this day it hit me – attached to one of the shelves, by a pin, was a little paper lotus flower that I had made for him, and pierced with this same pin was a tiny cut out of a poem he had shared with me -
“‘The Long Haul’ (‘Be Kind’)
Be kind to thy father: for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee as fondly as he?
He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue,
And joined in thine innocent glee.”
A few days ago, I cleared out his wallet and inside a hidden pocket at the back I found a piece of paper with my sister’s name on it and her birthday, a little passport photo I had given him and a cutting from the newspaper which said –
‘I read from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, the Lebanese Christian poet. On children he says: ‘You may house their bodies but not their souls. For their souls’ dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.’
Yet, I do believe we will be reunited again one day.
As I mentioned, I practice Falun Dafa and the exercises and meditation have certainly sustained me and the teachings have given me the courage and strength I’ve needed to help us all through.
On reflection and a little piece of kind advice from my experiences -
Cherish each other and cherish yourselves too.
Make peace with those you love, call people to check on them, leave no stone unturned nor any word unspoken.
Leave no regrets. Once they're gone, they're gone.
I followed my own advice - lessons learned from my own experiences of supporting and caring for someone in their final days and through loss (I looked after my dad's sister too as she died in 2019)
If you can do this - when someone you love passes on - you may find yourself at ease and with peace in your heart.
The pain of loss is still there, the pangs of panic when you realise they're gone and that you can't see them again, their voices and the memories - but the peace comes from knowing you did the right thing, you did your best for them, you smoothed anything out that needed smoothing out and you focused on what really matters and blocked out all the noise and the rubbish. It makes it easier to let go - to accept what's happened.
In his final days he was telling us what to do for his funeral, he was a no-nonsense kind of man and he said to mum ‘I want the cheapest coffin’ and I heard mum say ‘The cheapest coffee! I can’t believe that’ and he said ‘No, I said Coffin’ – and it was really funny, this I think sums them both up. They’ve known each other so long and me and my sister have both been truly fortunate and blessed to have these wonderful parents and such a wonderful life.
I was looking in the mirror with tears in my eyes the day after dad died and I was whispering 'Where are you?' and instantly his eyes shone back at me through my own eyes. I felt deep comfort.
Thank you for all the lovely messages of love and support. Much love to you all and be kind to yourself too.
