I was at my uncle's funeral. All very surreal ...
It happened quite suddenly. I loved him. In spite of all his faults. I remembered him from earlier days when I thought him a very handsome man. Life happened to him along the way ...
I sat next to my mom in the service. Very much aggrieved and quite shocked! It happened too suddenly. I don't remember making 1 funeral arrangement. Not one detail can I recollect. Our church officiated the funeral service. The preaching was full of fire. Blessed message was brought and people were up on their feet worshipping and praising God. I remember Cady's face specifically. He had that overjoyed look on his face that is only brought about by something that the preacher says and a brings a stirring of your soul to fire and reflects in your body language and your utterance of praise.
He is always so supportive at a funeral I thought with a smile. I wish I could do the same for him one day when he needs it. I do not wish for anyone to be so aggrieved as I am but it happens to all of us. Rich, poor, celebrities and nobodies. We all lose people we love. He made me feel the same way at my sister's funeral and my uncle Koebie. He didn't know any of them but his encouragement and presence stood out.
Mr Magyver said some words. I can't remember what he said. But he praised all Floyd's achievements. The works of his hands. He had successfully built the community hall, the schools in our district bare the works of his hands. He was a good worker. Skilled at building. Large impressive buildings. I remember him coming home with his tools and leaving home with them. He always left for long periods. I was never allowed to play with his tools. It was always very interesting. My grandfather took his lunch to work in a little pot. His sons did too.
Never had any respect for my grandpa. But they do all the things he did. Knowingly and unknowingly. Like father like son. A read about a study once that says a son bears up to 99% of his father's genes. This continues to his father and grandfather and great grandfather back to about 2000 years. Sometimes 98% is the mother carries strong genes but the father carries most genes in a son. Less in a girl. Even as little as 60% in a girl. That probably explains why the Israelites can still tell theirs back to the sons of Jacob and the bible takes the birth of a son and eldest son so seriously.
He was my grandfather's eldest son. He had nice hair. Hair is important in coloured families and I remember him being well built. Before he ruined his life and before the accident. The accident changed his posture and impacted on his working abilities. Funny thing is his youngest son walks just like his dad does after the accidient. You would sware he was in the accident as well. They, my grandpa's sons, have amber coloured eyes that turn greenish when they're angry or laughing. Strange, but beautiful to me. When you love someone and that person passes away you remember only the beautiful memories.
I have to force myself to remember the bad things. I do out of anger at them having left me just like that. All my loved ones that have passed on. A form of grief it is.
For instance I don't often remember how he disrespected his parents. In front of us the grandchildren. And how terrified me and my sister were and we would hide away too scared that he'll turn on us as well. He once beat his wife. My father tried to stop him and he almost punched my dad in the face. My daddy was sickly and could not fight against such a healthy strong man. I was furious at him and me and my sister ran up to him and started yelling and beating away at his legs with our small fists. He just looked down at us and walked off.
Patrot did the obituary. I thought he was going to talk about their drinking ways. But he didn't. He mentioned only the beautiful things. That he was a loyal friend and a fierce fighter. That's why they called him 'Tiger!".
No one spoke about how he did not raise one of his 3kids. He had two boys and one girl. His daughter loved him in spite of his mistakes. But his sons were different in their relationship with their father. He begged my mom a while ago to please ask his sons to call him now and then. It broke my heart to see him like that. We almost drove off when he ran to her and asked for her to tell Eroll he just wants to spend some time with them. He is getting old and wants to know his grandchildren. He has 5 granddaughters already not even 60 years old yet. I called Eroll and told him. I'm glad he went. He said they spoke and his father was really glad to see them and the girls enjoyed him.
My mom is his older sister and she always told me how he killed his first man at the age of 13. He usually got lashes at the police station and if not there my grandfather made sure he got it at home. I wonder what went wrong in his life. I know my grandmother spoiled him. He knew love from him and his wife, both wife's at different times in his life, loved him.
It got worse as he grew older. The drinking, stealing, being in jail. I know he hates mushrooms. You must never serve him mushrooms. He says in jail you get mushrooms and not meat. He wants meat on his plate at home. African man lol.
When he goes out drinking for a week, he wants all his food for the whole week stacked waiting for him. "Anders is dit moord en roof as ek hier kom!" When he got home he would eat all of it and spend the night in the toilet throwing it all up. My grandmother should not have kept the food cause she was the one to have to clean the toilet then. My grandmother passed on during 2008 and her three sons cried like babies ...
When the service was over me and my mommy stood as one person. And told the person in the coffin: " get up let's go home." Only the person in the coffin was not Fyiord but my Oompie who had already passed on 2013 February.
The church erupted as 1: " no Sisi! You can't do that!". No one addressed me, just my mom. "No, it is over now, we're going home." Me and my mom responded together. I could hear only family members talking saying no stop her but we were adamant that it is time to go now. I noticed that Oom's suit was still in good condition and why did someone put red socks on for him when I heard my grandmother say: "Sisi, let Fyiord go, it is time ..." And we left his hands and she took his hand.
