Testimony to Dad

Ours is the perspective of sons who grew up in a pleasant land called ‘Dad’ that existed wherever we were: Yorkshire, Cyprus, Germany, Hong Kong, Singapore or Shepperton.  A land whose hills were the character of a man we grew to love so deeply:

• His prodigious intellect full of wonderful knowledge told as stories to enlighten our minds,
• He was a man who preferred to teach us wisdom by living it out before us.
• Our father was a poet – a romantic heart that revelled in light, laughter, loss and life,
• Our Dad was something of a rascal, gently having fun with everyone and laughing with them, never at them,
• Our Dad taught us dignity – his poignant lesson: to live gracefully thinking always of those he loved above himself, even while he was dying.
• Our Dad grew in faith, fuelled by an intelligent awe of God’s creation, accepting Christ’s truth with the mind of a Chartered Engineer, the heart of a poet,
• Our father was a man of compassion; love measured with care that lasted the course,
• Such imperfections as he had only served to call us to overcome our own.

This land is rich with happy memories:

• Childhood memories of flying a new red box kite in the ‘New Territories’ above Hong Kong.
• Fishing for carp with tapioca pressed on to a hook in Singapore,
• Skimming stones in Yorkshire’s ‘Cogden Gill’,
• Getting stuck towing the caravan half way up a hill in Bavaria, after our map-reading lead him astray,
• Memories of camping: seeing him dancing in shorts after the collapse of his home-made camping table tipped scrambled egg spilt from a pan into his Wellington boots,
• The right way to cook a fried rice, make a cup of tea, wire a plug, calculate the attenuation of a radio signal!
• Holidays in Newquay in the rain – Dad brightening the day with limericks that rhymed dangerously – but always to our delight.
• Laughing at a man struggling for 10 minutes to unfold a deck chair at the beach, silly jokes from Tommy Cooper, or impressions from Morecambe and Wise.
• Digging in the garden, vegetables, glorious runner beans, sweet peas for the vase.
• Ribbing our wives, Carmina and Linda, with spot quizzes on their knowledge of the flags of all nations as a pre-requisite for being a fully  fledged Frost. Of course Dad knew every one!

We watched as Mum and Dad celebrated silver, ruby, and then golden anniversaries; as much in love as the day they met.  Each one always looking out for the well being of the other.  A lifetime of shared happiness and laughter, and an example for us to follow.

Our soldier-Dad, Member of the British Empire; decorated for being a rock when others crumbled.  Veteran of the Arab Legion, Egypt’s Suez Crisis, Palestine’s British Mandate, the Cypriot Uprising, the Borneo Confrontation, the ‘Cold War’ in Germany and serving the NATO alliance in the Far East.   A soldier of distinction, quietly courageous, who earned his commission the hard way, who always told us his medals were for rounding up NAAFI managers!

He was in the Royal Signals, a Technical Officer of Telecommunications, and after leaving the forces made a successful technical career in civilian life. Dad was an electrical and radio engineer in the true sense of the word, with a deep understanding of his subject, and quite able to shame us “know-it-all” new graduates with his knowledge.

He always loved to keep abreast of the latest technology, but never forgot the basics.

He was the only person we ever knew who could listen to a Morse code signal on the short-wave radio and actually tell you what was being said; a skill born of long hours at a morse key, underground in Whitehall after the war.

Our poet-father: creative writer, word-smith, conjurer of images, articulate observer of human-kind.  Whose words offered us insight into his heart as much as into his experience of the world.  He was always ready with a tale, an anecdote, and he could tell a story like no-one else. 

Dad was always fascinated by travel and places, and though both of us live abroad, he loved his trips to visit our families in the USA and Spain. He was so happy to be able to tour the beautiful Maine coast, or enjoy the evening light of his beloved Mediterranean.

Dad was, of course, a family man. He was always very proud of us and supported us through thick and thin. When we opted to live abroad, Dad made sure we remained a family using the internet.  Perhaps his greatest joy was his four grandsons, Marc, Matthew, Paul and Simon.  Long hours spent on garage projects, garden chair chats, sharing silly jokes and simply listening with love to everything they shared.

So many of your cards and kind messages tell of Dad the friend: loyal and faithful.   Like a friend he has stood with us in the hard times, celebrated with us in our good times and helped us generously when we needed support.  I know the same is true for so many of you, more, indeed, than any of us will ever know.

Yes, ours was the extravagant blessing of growing up in a land called ‘Dad’.  We continue to live in this pleasant land: his heritage to us. 

So, thanks be to God that we are rich with the treasure of knowing him, and so privileged to be his children.