A Home

The rumblings around two hemispheres have started as the clan makes their way to honour my dad by means of his funeral.

I am flying to Durban tomorrow and in some strange way it feels like the city will be waiting to give me a hug.

It may be a hot and humid hug, but it will be comforting just the same.

When my dad moved there with his wife in 2018, I remember being surprised and pleased because at least we would definitely be getting to see him once a year when we were there for the Comrades Marathon. He'd lived in Port Elizabeth since 1997 and being a smaller city, it was more awkward to get to. There were less flights available and it was a much longer drive. Although my dad wasn't really aware of being in Durban, I think the city knew he was there.

He moved into his full time care home mid year in 2018. The home felt like a home and his anxiety seemed to dissappear which for me was a great relief. The staff and carers really seemed to love him and that was really comforting knowing that these strangers had welcomed him into their hearts. It's a really tough job doing that kind of care work, with heavy lifting, feeding and tending to every need. I'm glad that there are people out there who are called to do this kind of work and I am grateful that my dad seemed quite at 'home'.