They say that a true legacy lasts well beyond a lifetime. One that continues to influence, shape and nurture future generations beyond the grave. It’s rare to find that in a hardworking, salt-of-the-earth man-of-the-land. A legacy usually reserved for people with a platform, fame or fortune. So often a generation or two after a lifetime, that once-precious and beloved character is forgotten for the rest of time. A fierce reminder that we are all dust. Here today, gone tomorrow.
That’s not the case with my Frank. Pa or Grandpa to some, Dad to others and Frank to many. My perfectly stubborn, kind, loud, honest, very well respected, astute and strong Pa.
He was an extremely strong man, both physically in his capacity for hard work and morally. If he had something to say, he would say it regardless of the consequences. Right was right and wrong was wrong and he would stand on a principle even at the risk of damaging a relationship. His words still ring in the ears of his daughters and grandchildren when we’re faced with difficult times. He had an incredible ability to pray over a decision and if it still felt right in a week, to act on it and never look back, and to never regret.
As a child I have fond memories of hard church benches, stained-glass windows, cold air, wearing our Sunday best and the most amazing morning teas. Church was a must whenever we would visit them. I have fond memories of fish and chips on the beach, playing baseball at the local field, walking to the local shops to buy ice creams or to feed the neighbour’s horses. Nanna used to say that when they lived on the farm, Pa would treat his horses better than his children.
What really sticks with me though is Frank’s faith in Jesus.
With a generation between us and although we have our faith in common, it is the expression of our faith that differs most. Frank’s faith in God was unshakeable and although he served in the church faithfully, he seemed to have quite a private faith. One with a call to reverence where kneeling beside his bed was common practice, but I don’t recall him talking about it. I, on the other hand, have a passion for learning and talking about God’s love and grace and it’s hard to shut me up. Products of our generations, perhaps? Probably. Could we learn from each other in our approaches? Absolutely.
What struck me in writing this was Mum’s reflections of her father’s faith. Hearing her speak of his battle of cancer and his absolute confidence and resolve that he knew where he was headed when his time on earth was done. She remembers his comforting words of “I know where I’m going and I’ve had a good life.”
His faith was truly foundational for mine. Frank and I always seemed to have a strong connection. Which makes me laugh because I was always too stubborn to hold the nails and let him hammer, we fought about always having to be right and always having to do what we wanted. Perhaps I have his stubborn streak also.
Mum regularly comments that we have similar personality traits (and flaws), which is such an honour for me to hear. Faith in the Lord passed down from one strong man, through his beautiful (and also strong) daughter, onto his granddaughter and now, by God’s grace, to his great grandchildren. I can only hope to aspire to leaving this sort of a legacy for future generations to come.
Thanks for the memories and moments, Frank. We miss you everyday.
