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November 02, 2006
Heartsore
My dad died on this day eight years ago. I remember him with such warmth and love.
My dad was physically and emotionally abused by his father. (A poor man who was bitter, angry and displaced by the Second World War.)
During one fit of temper my grandfather Mike backhanded my father (who was only two-years old) off his high chair and almost broke his jaw.
To save my father’s life, my grandmother sent little Jackie Romain off to boarding school at the age of six. He was put on a train and sent on a sixteen-hour journey by himself to a school in King Williams Town in South Africa. (My dad was sent by himself! I don’t know how my grandparents could have done that to a scared little six year- old. I can just imagine this bewildered curly-headed small boy, with his little suitcase and his favorite tartan blanket, sitting alone for all that time on his first train journey. Just thinking about it makes want to cry.)
Dale College, the boarding school, became my father’s home and family. It also became his passion. He played on every sports team. He loved the school so much that he continued to reminisce about it with fondness until the day he died.
My father spent the last two years of his life writing a book about his life at the school.
On the morning of his death he came downstairs and said to my mum, “I’ve finished writing the book. All I have to do is type in the last page and I’m done.” (My dad wrote the book in longhand and then typed in the pages.)
He never got to type the last page because he died a few hours later of an aneurism. He was only sixty-seven.
He was in the parking lot of my aunt’s apartment after visiting her. He had started the car and was ready to fetch my mum from the old folks home where she was visiting my grandmother.
A man found my dad in the car slumped over the steering wheel. The car was still running. The man said he thought my dad was sleeping.
I got a call at six in the morning and was on a flight from the United States back to South Africa by noon. It was the longest 18 hours of my life.
The next day, in a daze, I walked into my dad’s studio and found his computer still on. The cursor was blinking on the screen, patiently waiting for the final words of his book which were hand-written on a yellow pad lying next to the computer.
I typed in the last page for my dad.
In honor of Jack Romain, I would like to share that page:
“The big wooden doors of the only home I know clang shut forever behind me. I look straight ahead for fear of turning around and forcing my way back through the closed doors.
But the urge is too strong.
I turn and look longingly over my shoulder at Dale College, the boarding school that has been my home for the past eight years.
A home that saved me from my father whose temper almost took my life on a number of occasions.
A home filled with school friends and teachers that became my family.
A home that sheltered me from a distant memory filled with anger, bitterness, poverty and emptiness.
A home that nurtured me, comforted me and gave me strength to face the unknown journey upon which I am about to embark.
I sigh, turn away from my childhood and begin to walk toward my destiny…”
- From Blainey Junction by Jack Romain (As yet unpublished.)
(It's so hard to believe that my dad died just two hours after writing these words.)
Dad, thank you for creating the spark, which continues to ignite the passion within my soul.
Thank you for being the candle that continues to light my way.
You’re not here…but you’re always there.
Posted by trevor at November 2, 2006 06:21 AM
Comments
It is good to know that your dad found love and comfort somewhere, and that he was able to be a much better parent. How wonderful for you to be his legacy.
Posted by: Anne at November 2, 2006 09:03 AM
Such beautiful words of tribute. What a guiding light to your life and a warm memory to keep close forever. Your writing is very tender and thoughtful, as well as thought full. I have sensed in the past few days of your posting that your Father's death was near and now I see why this time of year is always so moving for you. Thank you for sharing these moments with us.
Posted by: ardi at November 2, 2006 09:03 AM
Hey Trev.
I cannot speak for students of his at any other schools, but I can say that for us at Highlands North Boys' High, (where your father taught) he was an inspiration and a damn fine teacher.
What a beautiful tribute to a truly awesome man.
Posted by: Yaniv at November 2, 2006 04:40 PM
Trevor,
Our kindred spirits continue to show their similarities. My father died 8 years ago as well..and his passion for our family has steered my own.
Bless you today, friend. Miss you guys a bunch.
Posted by: Jeff Natalie at November 3, 2006 06:03 PM
Blessed be.
and Amen.
Posted by: Leonie at November 3, 2006 07:57 PM
When your dad left this world –
He left a piece (or peace) of Heaven,
within all those he was surrounded by.
His legacy…
Or …
His Spirit lives on ETERNALLY
within those he loves, cherishes and honors.
The above words (mine) are deeply personal to me, and when I read your words above in regards to your dad.... I realize he has done what I desire and will do. He has left a legacy behind and I in part am a part of that by having discovered this site so long ago.
How extraordinary is that?
This does not cause my heart to be sore ... it creates a soaring Heart.
I am blessed.
Posted by: The Rose Within at November 5, 2006 08:17 AM