On the death of my father…
My father’s CB handle was ‘flatdog’ which refers to a crocodile. He was an excellent mechanic and a working man. He was also a responsible family man. He was well loved and respected by his friends and colleagues. He was a stable and disciplined man.
During the Easter weekend of 1985 he was taken up in hospital, on his way to be taken up in a psychiatric hospital. He was treated there for a few days and had a blood transfusion. He died one afternoon while attempting to climb out of a window three stories up. He fell and broke his neck. He was only forty years old.
It happened in the afternoon between morning visiting hours and the evening. There were nurses at their stations close by, and a few eye witnesses from outside in the street saw him fall. There was a short article of his death in the Pretoria News at the time. Shortly before his death he was apparently still helping other patients in the ward and giving a hand. His funeral was well attended. His ashes were strewn next to the beach in the small seaside town where he grew up.
My father had a good, happy and full life even though he died so young. He had a great sense of humour. We all still have fond memories of him, and he is still missed very much by us all…
