After spending most of our days apart, now we were claiming together, our Music of The Night - the title track of The Phantom of The Opera. After spending most of our days apart, now we were claiming together, our Music of The Night - the title track of The Phantom of The Opera.
We were preparing for my dad’s funeral.
As the eldest, I was wondering what to say.
So it seemed sensible to wake at 4am, pull on my leather boots, and climb a mountain to think about it.
They are such great boots - K-Way, the house brand of Cape Union Mart.
What a great company - reflecting Cape Town’s legendary status as a world-famous “Tavern of the Seas”, a global melting pot. Out of all the pain - such diversity, resilience, courage and strength. My home.
My boots are waterproof, don’t slip and support my ankles on rocky climbs. So they are loyal partners on my adventures - which is my thinking process of choice.
Fortunately, I learned the astonishing value of process as a young child. At my primary school, we gathered for assembly every morning.
Mainly, to sing together.
Especially freedom songs from the USA’s “Deep South”. Such as: “I’m going to lay down my heavy load DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE!!!” we bellowed in boisterous union.
We burst out into each new day with hearts filled with delight - determined to be the best we could be.
When I was six, my dad moved across the world to the UK.
I missed him radically.
But I made sure I cried out every single tear. And then burst back into my world and my school with exhilarating abandon.
Occasionally, he flew me to be with him. Now I, too, was a citizen of the world. He showed me the grand landmarks of his magnificent London.
On my second visit, the grand finale of our time together, was the original production of Phantom of The Opera.
After spending most of our
days apart, now we were claiming together, our Music of The Night - the title track.
“Night time, sharpens, heightens each sensation;
“Darkness, wakes, and stirs imagination;
“Silently the senses, abandon their defenses;
“Helpless to resist the notes I write;
“Dare you trust the music of the night?”
From continents apart - between all the longing - we claimed the exquisite closeness of father and son.
Most of my life as a child, and an adult, was spent without my Dad, physically.
But, as posed by the lyrics above, I chose, year after year, decade after decade - deliberately:
To trust.
To believe.
And to love: the man who brought me into this world.
Who abandoned me.
Who watched me, from afar.
And who returned to me, time and time again, when I needed him most.
In my old leather boots, I am now at the top of the mountain. My eulogy is written.
In time to watch the brilliant sunrise.
RIP: My dearest, dearest dad.
* Murray Williams’ “Shooting from the Lip” column appears in the Cape Argus newspaper every Monday.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.