I was never really sure how much this news affected him. He wept, but on subsequent visits, we never spoke about brother Brian's death. I would have, had my dad initiated it. But no. Nothing.
Was it the British 'stiff upper lip'?
'Chin up and get on with it'?
Or was it the opacity of dementia?
Some days, his cloudy brown eyes would drizzle tears - and then, momentarily - he was asking for an item to be added to the shopping list.
Oh, the dread, the pain of having to tell his wife - my lovely mam - that he had left us. She knew he was soon to depart this world. She was waiting. She had predicted that the third day of his illness would be "the day".
She was right.
She lifted her frail hand to her face and cried gently...."He has left me a few times during the earlier part of our 67 years. I should be used to it. But this is different..."
"Gonna take a sentimental journey
Gonna set my heart at ease
Gonna take a sentimental journey
To renew old memories"
Oh, the anguish of the widow!
I am so very grateful for my father. He was absolutely perfect for me. He was my jiggly belly gadget man. Soft, and tender hearted. Introverted. A loner, yet still comfortable in company - preferring to listen than to speak.
"I heard about a mansion He has built for me in glory
And I heard about the street of gold beyond the crystal sea
About the angels singing and the old redemption story
Oh and some sweet day I'll sing up there the song of victory"
I love you, Herbert Brian Hudson - BA PhD
(Born again. Past having doubts - HB Hudson)