Many people have a bucket list of things they’d like to see and do before they die. But I just can’t get enthused about the concept, especially now when I’m still grieving for my dad.
Dad was an energetic, noisy, vibrant, “young” 64-year-old who expected to live for at least another 30 years. He played tennis every week, led cycle tours around the Sunshine Coast, was active in his local Rotary club, ran his own business and was on the board of the local taxi co-op.
In September he completed an 800-kilometre charity bicycle ride from Goondiwindi to Brisbane. In October, he jumped on a plane to the Solomon Islands as part of a Rotary International mission to install water tanks at remote schools. After his first day at work while waiting for his Rotary buddies to gather for dinner, Dad’s heart stopped.
My Mum, my sisters and I had to organise the return of his body and his luggage to Australia. We had to organise an autopsy and embalming. We had to select a coffin, clothes for him to be cremated in, flowers… We had to decide whether we wanted to see his body. We didn’t.
When his suitcase finally arrived we hid it in the laundry. I sat at his desk to write his eulogy, trying hard to ignore the scraps of paper covered in Dad’s spiky writing. Mum and my sisters and I had our own lists which we just put on top of all his papers – bills, invoices, tennis tournament schedules, rosters, deposit books and brochures. It was a few weeks before Mum could bring herself to start clearing his papers away.