Dad

This is just a small bit about my Dad, not sure why I am writing this in hear to be honest.

My dad's name was Harvey, he was born and raised in Victoria BC, Canada. He was the only boy in his family with two sister's Connie and Alberta. He lived in Canada up until 1979 when he moved to Erskine, Scotland with his wife and son. If they had moved a year later, then like my brother I would of been born a Canadian.

While my dad lived and grew up in Canada he different things. He was a member of the Sea Cadet's, did some amateur stock car racing, amateur wrestling and various jobs like taxi driver, handy-man and upholster. He had to give up the stockcar racing and wrestling due to serious back injury. Am not sure as to how he injured his back, what I do know that he had to get surgery to remove half of his spine.

My dad had always told me and my brother Lloyd that he was quite well known in Victoria, he never knew why really. He never did anything special, was just there for people when they needed help. Ofcourse me and my brother never really believed him, we just thought that he was trying to make himself look good infront of his kids. Really we shoulda known it was true, I mean he was well known by the people in Erskine. But still we never really believed it when we were younger. the year after my dad died, we had went over to Canada to see my dad's side of the family, that's when we realised he was telling the truth. Everytime we were introduced to my aunt's friends, we would be introduced as "Harvey's son's". Straight away everyone smiled and said that they could see him in us. No matter where we went, it was the exact same. One day I had went to the supermarket and some how ended up chatting to the cashier. I had mentioned I was visiting relatives and when I had mentioned there name, the cashier had said "Oh you must be one of Harvey's son's". I was quite shocked that she knew him, I mean he hadn't lived there for about 20 years! Each and everyone seemed truly saddened at the news of his death.

My dad died on the 12th January 1998, he was only 45. He had went to work at
about 2am as usual that morning, I remember waving bye to him before heading
up to my bed. He was driving a van delivering papers to shops when he started to get chest pain's, he ended up suffering from a severe heart attack. That day I had just started at a new work placement at a coffee shop in Renfrew. Two hours into my day and the police were in to tell me the news. The female officer was the one to break the news to me. I could tell she found it difficult due to the tears on her face, they were there even before she had spoke to me. It wasn't till a week later that I realised she had been a good friend of my dad's, really must of been hard for her.

That week, the local area newspaper (The Refrew,/Erskine Gazette) had the headline 'The Death Of The Man Who Never Said No'. And by headline, I mean that was pretty much all that was on the frontpage, the letters were so big it took up nearly all of the page. Inside there was a photo of him and an article that talked about the amount of good things he had done for the local community, the thing's he would do for friends and strangers alike. Hewould pretty much help anyone who needed it.

Even though I was in so much shock at his death, the hardest part was still to come for me. Within the next few day's I had to break the news to friends and neighbours, wasn't easy for me at all. To make matters worse for me, I also had to go along to Govan Hill police station to pick up his belonging's. Because he had died in the van before the ambulance got there, his belonging's were taken to the police station. I was shaking like crazy as I signed for them. Later that day I had to force myself to do the hardest thing I have ever been faced with, singing my dad's death certificate. I wasin tears on the way to the Registrar Office on Martha Street in Glasgow,when we got there I barely had the strength to get out the car. And at the same time, I never wanted to get out the car, I was scared to death. I never realised how much effort it would take to sign my name onto a sheet of
paper. The tears were streaming down my face as I sat in the small office with the pen in my hand. I sat there for over 30mins just looking at the paper, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to sign theend of my dad's life. After a long time, I did manage to get my name ontothe certificate, not sure if I could do something like that again...

I have no idea how it came to be that I would be the one to sign the death certificate, it is really all a blur to me now. Though it was a hard and upsetting thing for me to do, if I had a chance to go back and change it, I don't think I would.

My mum had taken it extremely hard, but I think the funeral made it that bit easier for us all. It was a moving sight to see people cramming in to the Clydebank Crematorium, it was the one thing that made me smile about the whole thing. As people walked out after the ceremony, I think my mum enjoyed seeing the various people who's life was touched by my dad.

I miss him so much.