If There Are Looms in Heaven....

Then this dear man is already seated and throwing a shuttle....

Rev Wayne Nicholson (Padre Wayne) July 31st 1948- June 10th 2019

I first met Wayne on a social media group called Ravelry, and in particular, a forum called Warped Weavers. We simply started chatting and sharing our love for weaving.  He called himself an (over) eager novice and had asked for some advise on a draft and we took off as friends.  He had that way of drawing you in and next thing you knew, you were enjoying life with him.

In 2014, he and his spouse Harry were taking a summer sabbatical from their parish in Mt Pleasant, Michigan and coming out to the PNW or Pacific Northwest, and he declared that they intended to come up island and visit us.  We were thrilled that they would take such a large detour to come and see us. I was waiting on both hip and knee replacements so with that understanding of my limited capabilities it was on!

We had a marvellous time with them: visited The Loom at Whippletree Junction south of Duncan, and also Leola's Studio. Yarn purchases made at each stop of course.    Dinner at the Rock Cod Cafe in Cowichan Bay and a walk on the Maritime pier after dinner.  (I also heard that visits in Victoria included Knotty by Nature and BeeHive)

It turned out to be a very special time for them as they had married while in Port Townsend !  We were part of their honeymoon tour...

They came back again the following summer and we had another few days of visiting and sharing. Wayne discovered the joys of the 20+ tie up assist on my loom (which he subsequently bought with Harry's urging and loved it) 

We each had a loom or wheel to play with and had a great time and wonderful conversation.     In 2016 we moved here to Campbell River and so we missed their annual visit, but in 2017 we were all set to host them again. It was not to be as Wayne had forgotten his passport in his locked car in Detroit and so issues crossing the border prevented the visit from happening.   This past summer in 2018, Wayne retired and they moved from Michigan to their new home in Bay St Louis on the Gulf Coast.

They were in their car when it was struck from behind at a high rate of speed on June 3rd. Broken bones for both, but Wayne soon was in a coma and then the prayers started flowing in for a miracle.  His wounds were too great and he was taken off of life support today.  

What has happened is what I like to think of as the "Wayne effect"..... people are discovering just how many lives these two people touched. On Ravelry or FaceBook, everyone has a story to tell and share with others.  Wayne helping others as they grieve, or in poor health and / or hospitalized, feeding the homeless,  sermons of hope and love,  and so much more. He was a supporter of women and marched proudly with a pink pussy hat, marched for BLM (Black Lives Matter), LGBTQ rights.......he was all about people simply being who they are and being equal.  

In the weaving world: he always had an encouraging comment, suggestion or willing to share. Many weavers have a towel he gifted them or hot pads (I have some too). He and I did sample exchanges  and so there was always one for me and one for Wayne with every project that came off my loom.

Padre Wayne would so flustered by all the attention and prayers sent his way in these past few days.  His husband Harry will be healing and grieving.... but hopefully all the love sent his way will help ease the pain.

Harry wearing one of Wayne's scarves at Notre Dame Cathedral

Wayne was a great support when my father was dying in 2015. It took seven months and there was a lot to deal with, and Wayne helped me along the inevitable way.  He was also quick with support as I had my joint replacement challenges, and again when Bruce dealt with his bladder cancer last year.  He literally shared his compassion everywhere and if you weren't religious, not a biblical word passed his lips. He was one of those very special people who can reach everyone with empathy.  

We would use FaceTime and walk around showing each other what was on the loom and catch up on news and plans.  Ah, they had such plans......    

I'm sure that someone will finish his project on the loom for him. I know if I lived closer, I would would do that for him.... as he would have done for me.

Rest easy my friend.

Not just One Day...

 Dad and I went back sixty years together.  Here we are in the back garden in the UK playing together.   We had a close bond more than the usual 'father-daughter' bond. My mother was ill after I was born and so he looked after me as a newborn for the first  four to six months until my mother was better.

Dad was in the Royal Navy and so was away on tours for months on end, but we had that great first start.    He did have an extra long tour of twelve plus months and so when he came home, he had to peek through the letter slot and ask me to open the door.  I wouldn't let the strange man in!

Then my parents decided to emigrate to find a better life in Canada. It wasn't their first choice but New Zealand was too far away for their parents. That must have been hard to leave behind family, friends, and a way of life and living.

Here we are sitting by the Thames estuary shortly before we left the UK.   I'm four years old.  I can recall being on the ship (S.S. Empress of Britain) and I can recall the large engine of a train.

We end up in Saskatoon on the Canadian prairies and lived there for ten years.  Dad was a Police officer.    Yes, winters were that cold!

 In the late 1960's, after tight tough times and long cold winters, life turned a corner again and they decided to give New Zealand a try.

Dad in the early 1970's 

NZ was beautiful and it was weird having picnics for Christmas day dinner at the beach!   Sweating in the heat of summer and exchanging cards with snow scenes and putting up Christmas trees.  It wasn't a British lifestyle, and it wasn't a Canadian lifestyle either.... it was like going back into a quaint other world.

 This is Dad's old car... a 1958 Ford Poplar in 1972.  

Mum quickly decided that Canada with all its modern comforts was a much better place and so we returned to Canada. This time we stayed on the warmer west coast!

The Vancouver area seemed to work very well for my parents raising a family.   Dad moved from being a Deputy Sheriff to a Fraud Investigator.

 Here he is after officially donating his 100th pint of blood for the Red Cross in the 1980's. He was very service minded but in a more official capacity.

Poor health forced an early retirement in the late 1980's, which after my mother's sad passing in 1995, he spent alone.  He traveled back to the UK and did jaunts to Europe with his sister as well.  He visited us on our various shifts in home location around southern BC.  He was the family's anchor, our glue that pulled us all together... the Dad.

This time last year he was in hospice care and so we knew it was our last one with him.   There were cards, flowers and tears...   hugs and smiles.

This Father's Day is our first with out him. It would be so nice to pick up the phone and hear his voice.   But not just today, but any day....

Father's day, like Mother's day, is *every* day!  Its a 24/7 commitment from the first day they bring you home, until their last day.    And beyond....

Labours Rest

Frank Edwin Alfred Waterfield

July 31st, 1930 - July 7th,  2015

Stop the Clocks

by W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public

doves, 

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

~*~***~*~

My grandparents Reginald and Louisa on their wedding day March 15th, 1930 at Tyldsley Church.

Grandad was a plasterer and Nana was in domestic service.

Four generations:  Baby Frank on his christening day September 21st, 1930 in Ashford, Kent. Seated is his mother Louisa Emily (Aug. 3rd, 1907  - May 13th, 1996), her father directly behind her Edwin Barton (March 15th, 1882-1952) and his father, Alfred Barton ( Oct 19th 1848- Feb 28th, 1932) 

Hyde Park 1931

A perfect little gentleman  1931 or 1932

At the seashore 1932 (take note of the boat)

Nana with Dad on left, and unknown friend and her children 1932

Cub scout, with badminton racket

Joined HMS Ganges in Portsmouth, England as a 'boy seaman', age fourteen, approx 1944

A bit older. A real cutie

Home on leave from HMS Ganges.  Sister Diana in front, Louisa and Reginald, Uncle Albert, his wife Dorothy, Grandfather Edwin and Nan Elizabeth Barton. Circa 1946

Circa 1949

Then Dad served  in the far east: through the Suez Canal, around the horn of Africa,  Malaysia, Bangkok, Singapore and many smaller islands.  Circa 1954-1958

Dad worked with ordinance:  depth charges, mines etc.

Petty officer

Parent's back garden, posing with sister Diana

Chief Petty officer (two stripes!)

Dad in his civvies looking dapper, approx 1954.

Dad and Mum on their wedding day July 31st 1954 (which was also his birthday)

On their honeymoon in Bournemouth

Dad and me, March 1956

Four generations:  Me, Dad, his mother Louisa and my step great grandmother  Elizabeth

Dad loved his cars...

Me and my Dad, 1957-58

Then in September 1960, we emigrated to Canada. After a short stay in Timmins Ontario where Dad worked in a gold mine, we moved to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan where he became a police officer.

This was their first little house.

This is the same house in 2012.... my bedroom was the bottom right basement window!

Dad became a member of the Canadian Naval Reserve and below he is receiving an award.

We were in Canada 1960- 1970.  Then we emigrated to Dunedin,  New Zealand. We were there 1970- 1975.   I had also acquired a brother and two sisters by then too.

Dad enjoying the view and fresh air at a friend's beach cottage. Back of the house was on land and front of the house was on  supports in the ocean.

Dad, me at fourteen or so and Mum  approx 1975

Dad worked as a 'costing clerk' for Cadbury's (yes the chocolate people!)   This is a work social party for Christmas.

Dad returned to BC, Canada in 1974. Here he is posing beside a tree on the Malahat, just north of  Victoria, BC. 

Dad Christmas 1975

Dad early 1977

Dad and my siblings,  1975

Dad in his 'mole hole' as he called his computer room. He had won a Commodore 64 system and he learned to use it extensively! He loved computers....

After my mother died in 1995, Dad did some trips to England. Here he is standing outside Commander William Bligh's home (of Mutiny on the Bounty fame) some time between 1996 and 1999

Visiting with his sister Diana .... good, no... great friends!

Dad and Diana took a side trip to Tuscany. Here's Dad is enjoying his dinner and glass of wine.

Dad outside at Tyldsley Church where his parents were married in 1930.

Dad and Diana in Boulogne-sur- Mer

At Diana's home in Charleton Village, Middlesex, England

Sadly Diana passed away in 2012 at age 77.

Dad by a large Ponderosa pine in the Okanagan when he came to visit us there in 1998.

Dad would love to drive out to the Pitt Lake area and then take a long walk along the dyke. He would snap photographs of birds, scenery and enjoy the quiet.   A bit closer to his home was Lafarge Lake and he could reach it with his motorized scooter. 

Here's an example of his photographic work.

Dad, brother Kent and myself enjoying the gardens at the Crow and Gate Pub in Yellow Point, south of Nanaimo, BC. in 2011.  Its a traditional English pub out in the country side and a real delight. 

My snap of Dad as we waited for breakfast.  March 2012

Every Sunday, Dad and Kent would go out for supper. It was their weekly ritual with few exceptions.

Dad modelling his new silk and yak herringbone scarf woven by me. March 2013

Dad had more than his fair share of health issues, including two open heart surgeries, and a hip replacement, but he always bounced back and had a smile. Here he is goofing around with my sister Melinda.

... and here when out for supper, doing selfies. 

Big thumbs up after heart surgery at St Paul's hospital in Vancouver.

Dad became a great grandfather April 2012 when my son and his wife had our grandson Ethan.

Dad meeting Ethan for the first time. He did meet his new great grand daughter Madison but he was in the hospital when she was born and he couldn't hold her unfortunately.

In late 2013  Dad was back in hospital for a hip replacement and generally from that point onwards, his over all health took a slow decline with each return to hospital.

There is no doubt that my Dad had a huge influence on me.  Right from the very start as he raised me for the first six months of my life as my mother was ill.   I can remember coming to Canada as a four year old and walking the SS Empress of Britain with Dad holding my hand.... seeing the large train engine that took us west.    Dad as a police officer giving me rides to school in his patrol car in Saskatoon.  The journey to New Zealand and our later return.

What ever job Dad undertook:  Royal Navy officer, policeman, costing clerk, prison guard, Sheriff,  Fraud Investigator or just learning his new computer, Dad did it well.  His life long hobby of nature photography  meant some nice upgrades in camera equipment, but he would use it to its best performance. His love of computers meant that right until the end he had his iPad handy and he could read emails, and surf the web.

There's a big hole in my life that he used to fill. He didn't really understand my love of weaving but he enjoyed the pictures, handwoven gifts and was very supportive.  He always said it was a shame Mum never saw my weaving as she was an amazing sewer and she would have made beautiful garments from my cloth.  I agree.   It was my mother's love of fabric, and knitting that started me with cross stitch and crochet at age fourteen.   Parents shape you in so many ways. They are also the longest relationship you have with another person (even if you don't know them!)

 I have many memories of Dad to keep me company in the days and years ahead.  I have been working on the family's genealogy for the past year using my Dad's notes. My brother and I plan to do it together now. I think it will be good for both of us....