I first met Rod in 1987. I had just bought my first house and Debbie and Neil were popping in to see it. There were boxes everywhere, frayed carpets left by the previous owner and very little furniture, and Debbie ‘phoned to say would it be alright to bring Neil’s dad with them as he had literally just returned from Africa. What could I say? Rod later told me that when he first walked into the house and met this woman with short hair, dungarees and big earrings, he wondered about what sort of family his son had married into. Then I said ‘well I will just pop to the corner shop and get us some wine’ and he said from that moment he knew all was OK. I remembered that he came and paid for the wine; he also later said he wanted to make sure I didn’t get ‘cheap stuff’.
And so our relationship was forged, though I didn’t know then just how important he was to become to me. Over the years he offered quiet support, making me always welcome in whatever home he and mum were living in. Jeff and I enjoyed several holidays with him and mum in Spain and he loved to seek out places that he thought we would enjoy visiting.
When Mum was ill in 2012 and she and Rod came to live with us, he did so with fortitude and grace. It couldn’t have been easy for him but he immersed himself in life in Worton where we live, joining a local Bridge club and a discussion group at the U3A and making friends there who still ask after him. But they missed home and so with support from the family they returned to live in Seaton. He was always extremely grateful for that support.
At some point ‘Rod’ morphed into ‘dad’, never replacing the father I lost at 16 but finding a special place in my heart. I miss his support, his advice, his beaming smile when we arrived to start our turn on the rota, his list of things he thought I might like to try cooking for them and his debating … it would not be unusual to sit down to breakfast to ‘…and what do you think about …’. Usually political, usually contentious! But how quiet breakfasts are now!
Vron Franklin