Today would have been my Dads 84th birthday. 84. Now that is old. But sadly he never even saw his 80’s, he died 4 years ago only a few short weeks before he turned the magical and all elusive 80. Instead of a party with drinks and happiness, we all sat around at the wake, strangely in the same place, mourning his death. Same people, same featured person, wrong occasion. But such is life. Life is joyous, life is fun, life is sad, and life is fleeting.
This morning I took a walk to the coastline nice and early. I felt teary and emotional this morning. Another grief wave. I let it pour out of me. It always helps. Once I have squelched another bucket of tears from deep within my soul, clarity and peace comes again. The sky was blue, birds were chirping, the ocean looked beautiful and it felt good to be outside making the most of my early rise.
For the first time after walking past this particular spot along the coast for years, I noticed a memorial plaque for a dear man who was chomped by a shark and suffered a gruesome horrible bloody death on the shores of one of our favourite beaches here in Perth. Ken died 6/11/2000, and was born 16/11/1950. He was 10 days away from celebrating his 50th birthday. Poor bastard. I imagined the same scenario, a wake that should have been a party. A fun party. One without any sign of death. They say if you die before your birthday, that it was your time. Well, whoever makes up this nonsense, right time or not, time will run out for all of us one day.
Ziggy was a great Dad. I never called him Ziggy of course, to me he was the best Dad in the world. He drove me around like a crazy man, to school, after school activities, to Mums place back and forth. He cooked amazing food, which we enjoyed with gusto and happiness. He was one of the best golfers I know, and was addicted to this frustrating mental game chasing and whacking a hard white ball. He was an expert tradesman. He was a perfectionist and no job was left without it being proudly completed with perfection and precision. He was a brilliant gardener, a keen lawn man, into flowers and roses and petunias and colour and making things look nice in the garden. He was handsome, he always was well groomed, neatly cut hair, freshly shaved every morning, and a splash of aftershave to complete a sharp outfit in his younger years. Ziggy was a legend in my eyes.
Ziggy was many things to me, not just my Dad but my best friend. Many of my memories stem from my childhood and teenage years, as sadly we lived 3000km away from each other in the last 15 years of his life. I would travel to visit him as much as I could, we would talk on the phone almost every day and even Skype, which was a great way to keep connected. But it never felt like enough. I always wanted more time. I felt deprived. I wanted the casual dinners, the games of golf together, the simple bbq afternoons, the chats on the couch, the walks to the park, the tv marathons, the shared movies, the warm hugs, the holding hands; I always wanted more.
My Mum lived in Perth, so I always felt torn between my parents. I did my very best to see both of them as much as I could. And now, they are both gone. Now all I have are memories. Many good memories which I relive as much as I can.
I write this post in memory of my wonderful Latvian Father Zig Rudolf Ozolins. A kind, funny, charming, loving man, who was to me the best Dad in the world.
Love Anita xx