Euro 2024 ~ You may be gone from my sight ……

…… but you will never gone from my memory.

 “That View”

One of the objectives of my month long “Euro 2024” excursion was to bring my parents ashes back home. When my dad Gordon died on January 14th 2005, my immediate thought was to take his ashes back to Scotland, for burial with his grandparent's at Kilmun Cemetery located in the grounds of the 19th century Kilmun Church, on the shore of the Holy Loch in the Cowal Peninsula, Argyllshire. In addition to my dad’s grandparents, Hugh Wright (3 June 1859 ~ 23 June 1953) and Janet Strath (8 November 1864 ~ 3 August 1937), the cemetery is also the final resting place of many other relatives, who lived in the area.

Through many stories told me, it has always been obvious that my dad thoroughly adored his grandpa “Auld Hughie”. As a youngster, he spent many happy summers at his grandparents house “Gowan Brae” on the shore at Blairmore, Argyllshire. Over the years I heard many incredible anecdotes about Auld Hughie (or sometimes just “Grandpa Wright”), it appears that he was a rather interesting character, who was known by everyone on “the shore” and beyond. Often described as being “pickled in whisky”, he was always smartly dressed in a waistcoat with his pocket watch on a chain and never without his pipe.

On those summer visits to Blairmore, Auld Hughie and my dad would often walk for miles together, whether it be up the high road to admire the views of Loch Long and the Firth of Clyde or a wander along the stoney beach in front of Gowan Brae or go over to the pier to watch the paddle steamers come and go, they were known to be constant companions. Regardless of where they went or what they got up too, their days out together would inevitably end in the same way, at the local village pub. Auld Hughie would buy my dad an ice cream cone (known in Scotland as a “Pokey Hat”), with a verbal reminder not to tell his grandmother that they stopped by the “local”. My dad would then sit happily outside with his Pokey Hat, waiting for Auld Hughie to have his “Wee Haulf”, then afterwards they both would stroll back to Gowan Brae for dinner.

Dad and Auld Hughie at Gowan Brae, Blairmore, Argyllshire

In line with my thoughts to bury my dad’s ashes with Auld Hughie, it was back in early 2005, I made a “Notice of Interment – Request” with the Argyll & Bute Council and obtained the Title Deeds for the lair. After this formality, all that would be required was for me to set a date to go over to Scotland, arrange to have the grave opened and complete the burial. I was never sure when I would actually go back to do this, but as it always does, time moved on and with that so did my thoughts. Then without any available or willing input from my mother or sister Linda, my plans eventually evolved in a completely different direction.

I am finding as the years roll on and I get a little older, I increasingly spend more time thinking about and recalling memories from the past. They are of all stages of my life growing up in Scotland. Many of the really great memories are those of the frequent walks and adventures I did with my dad. The best of those occurred during our trips to the North West Highlands and the stunningly beautiful area surrounding the highland village of Gairloch. We spent great summers there camping, where the two of us would go off in any direction to explore heather covered hills, vast sandy beaches, climb rocks, follow endless rivers, walk along loch sides and then always at night sit on a rock at the beach, to watch the sun go down. They were truly magnificent times, he loved the highlands with its dramatic rugged landscapes, lochs, mountains and most of all its beautiful and bountiful silence.

Back in May 2022, I published a blog titled “The Sound of Silence” about our highland visits and in particular beautiful Loch Maree. It can be found by clicking on the image or the link below ~

https://southshoretidewatch.blogspot.com/2022/05/the-sound-of-silence.html

 

On February 20th 2021, just a couple months before her 91st birthday, my mother Bet died in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia. During the months before her expected death, I did with a hint of hesitancy broach the subject of “their” ashes. It quickly became apparent, that my mother had no thoughts or opinions about it, she seemed willing to leave all this to me.

On the wall of her apartment, there were a number of framed photographs I had taken years ago while on visits to the highlands, including one of Loch Maree, which is just a short distance north from Gairloch. Like my dad, my mother also loved the highlands and spoke often about our family visits there and in particular “That View” of beautiful Loch Maree. So that was it, I had decided it was to be Loch Maree ~ and at some point in the future, I would take their ashes back to Scotland, to forever make them part of the beautiful view, with its accompanying silence, a location they both adored so much.

Reflecting upon it now, my initial plans for my dad’s ashes back in early 2005, were created in haste, a feeling of self-imposed pressure that I had to get this done. I also suspect my underlying thoughts then and for sure in the years since have always been Loch Maree ~ a location, I am confident they would have given their full approval.

For a few years and certainly more intensely over the past seven months since I booked this Euro 2024 trip, I have thought much about this day at Loch Maree. Those thoughts could be described by all the following words ~ apprehension, trepidation, uneasiness, nervousness, anxiety, disquiet and so on. Today’s duty is one I would have preferred to have done in the company of my only sibling, my sister Linda, but that was not possible she died on October 15th, 2010 at the age of 56.

As I sat at the loch side this morning surrounded by incredible beauty and complete silence, I was again recalling many family memories from a long time ago. They ranged from when the four of us lived in East Kilbride, Scotland to our final years in Canada. I have so many clear, detailed and vivid recollections from the past, many of which I can still put accurate dates and locations to. With my eyes closed, I could focus even further on the sights, sounds, smells, thoughts, and feelings associated with each one ~ I hope they will always remain with me.

I never imagined or even considered that I would be the only one remaining, the sole custodian of all the memories and family history. At times it really hits me hard, a dreadful result of time moving along at an ever-increasing rate and making too many life changes as it goes along. As I think about my sister Linda, who was seven years older than me, our relationship seemed to always have challenges. We were not particularly close in a way I would like to have been. Part of that was the age difference and the fact she immigrated to Canada in 1974 when I was 13. In truth, I barely ever got to know her to the required level at any stage in our lives, I don't think the opportunities for that ever really surfaced.

For a long time after Linda died, I had a broad range of emotions about her passing. Due to the circumstances of her death, I found it difficult in any normal or expected way to mourn her loss, too many prohibiting feelings frequently got in the way. I never had the perfect backdrop or ideal circumstances to grieve in the way I believe you should when your only sibling dies. It was only after my mother passed in February 2021, that I felt the mourning process for Linda had begun. Now 14 years after her illness and death, I am aware more and more of the personal void that has been left. I missed her input and presence during some difficult times, when I had developing responsibilities towards my mother. In the present, I miss being able to share and compare memories of our early days in Scotland, of our grandparents, of the wonderful camping holidays and so much more. Being that we were the only two in the world who shared the same parents, our conversations now would be so meaningful, deep and would offer an enormous sense of value to both of us.

When I think back to when I was very young, time appeared static, people never noticeably aged, it took an extremely long time for a year to pass and for Christmas to come around. Back then, I had my grandparents, aunts and uncles, my friends had their parents. It was a time when strangely the summers seemed endless and school holidays lasted a lifetime. Due to my tender years, I failed to notice that the world was certainly evolving and transforming, while in my little world nothing changed at any rate that made any difference. But now far too many years later, Christmas seems to come around every few months, I have no close relatives who are older than me, the weeks pass so quickly they seem to be in a race with the months, I can rarely remember my age, because the number changes so often ~ it is certainly an interesting and thought-provoking chapter in one’s life, I wish it would just slow down a bit .... 

 

To my parents Gordon & Bet and my sister Linda ~

You may be gone from my sight but you will never gone from my memory ……………

 

Loch Maree this morning ~

A musical video I created back in 2005 as a tribute to my dad. It contains many photos of him throughout his life and of the Scottish Highlands. 

Click on the image or the link below ~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKhbVWwtzJc

Below is a link to a blog I wrote when my mother died in February, 2021 ~

https://southshoretidewatch.blogspot.com/2021/02/elizabeth-helen-wright-bet.html