On
Wednesday 3rd July a crowd of family and friends gathered to bid
farewell to my dad, Ernie. We were at the Llandudno Lifesaving Club
on the beach in Llandudno, where my dad had lived for more than 50
years. Ernie died on Friday 28 June, aged 80, after a
gradual deterioration compounded by his spinal injury, from a
mountain biking accident, and the subsequent 15 years he spent in a
wheelchair. This is what I and others said at the gathering:
It
is right that we gather in this beautiful place, Llandudno, to
remember our dad. Perhaps this is not the most practical choice of
venue, with everyone squashing in, but I am confident it is the right
one. Ern always said the only way he wanted to leave Llandudno was in
a box. And he pretty much achieved that. Llandudno was Ernie's home
and his community for more than 50 years. I couldn't imagine him
living in Kronendal Retirement Village, where he reluctantly bought a
house. I couldn't imagine him not living in Llandudno. And he
couldn't either. I am so grateful that he was able to live out his
days here, in the place he belonged.
This
beautiful beach is inextricably linked with the picture I hold of my
dad. He probably walked on this beach almost every single day of the
first 35 years that he lived here, always with an assortment of dogs
in tow. And when he lost access to walking on the beach 15 years ago,
he continued to get as close as he could. He was a very familiar
sight on his buggy, making his way along the gravel road behind us,
still with the dogs in tow.
A
death is a loss. And yet my experience of Ernie's death has not been
primarily about loss. For us, his family, it felt like right timing.
I think it is difficult for any of us to really appreciate how it was
for Ern to loose his independence so completely, or just how well he
actually bore up under those conditions, even as they worsened. When
we were remembering things about Ern last night we thought of one of
his old stock phrases: Right, we're off. It had connotations of his
enthusiasm for action, but also meant - I'm ready and I'm going now,
on my own, if no one else is. It feels like a long time since I've
heard that phrase from Ern.
During
the first of his two recent stints in hospital he was determined to
attend the big Stephenson family saamtrek. I think, after that
he was ready to go, he no longer needed to struggle on. Ern had had a
very good innings. And so since his death I have found myself
naturally drawn to experience and appreciate, not what I have lost,
but what I have gained from being Ernie's son.
Ernie
touched the many people in his life, and in particular his family and
all who that encompassed and included, our family, my family. It is
this that is Ernie's legacy.
So
I think it is appropriate to hear what this family says about Ernie.
And appropriate that we start with one of his grand children.
Sebastian:
When
I was about five, Ern had been in a wheelchair for about 10 years
already. He made me a model fighter jet, even though he struggled to
use his hands. I ran round and round the house with my new jet. I
slipped in a puddle and broke the tail. Ern wasn't even mad, and he
fixed it.
Ern
loved birds. I think his best bird is a rock pigeon. He fed a pair of
them on his deck every day.
Sometimes
Ern would let Phoebe and me watch a video, as long as there was no
sport on TV. One day when I wanted to switch on the TV Ern said,
“Push the big button.” I did. Then he said, “Push any other
button.” So I pushed a button. “No, not that button!” he
yelled. Ern wasn't always so good at explaining what he meant.
We
all know that Ern had a buggy. Sometimes Ern let Tom, Phoebe, Pie and
me ride up and down the passage, and sometimes he even let us ride
the big buggy on the road. He was very generous with his things.
Ern
we are all going to miss you. You have been a great grampa to me. I
will miss you a lot. Thanks for everything, Ernie.
One
of the things that enabled Ern to stay on in Llandudno was the
dedicated care that he received and so valued from Sylvia & Sam,
from Susan, Sandra, Zelpha, Samantha, and Sarah. Tessa, Oney and I
are indebted to all of you for what you gave to our dad. Thank you.
And
many other friends and family helped him to stay here, including
Peter and Selbi from ADT.
I
would like to read some words from others, who were not able to be
here today. Firstly someone from Ernie's wider Llandudno family -
Shirley du Plessis:
We
all loved Ernie and admired him so much for his fight against the
results of his accident, his sense of humour and his warm interest in
so many things. He will be much missed by us all, but at least there
is the knowledge that he had a very good life.
Now
Samantha, one of his granddaughters will pay her tribute to Ern:
During
the Argus cycle race they close down the roads in Llandudno and the
downhill skaters take advantage of this. So my friend told me to go
and look at the skating website, I was a bit confused about why she
told me to do so, until in amongst the photos of hard-core downhill
skaters was one of my Ermie coming down the same hill in his buggie
with comments like “good to see the seniors ripping up the tar”
and “what a legend grampa” and for me this pretty much sums up
how me and all my friends knew Ermie. He was never an effort to visit
out of obligation, and a place where you had to make small talk.
Instead he was just the perfect stop-off on the way to and from the
beach and his doors were always open to me and any of my crazy
friends, who he loved to meet.
So
I just want to say thanks for always being around, for helping me
with every school project and always having an abundance of sucker
sticks, for putting up swings for us in your garden and even though,
near the end, you couldn’t participate, for passing down your
awesome lifestyle through the generations. I will miss you.
Amongst
the strong associations I have of my dad and am grateful for, aspects
that shaped our lives as his children are this place, Llandudno, its
beauty, its beach, its community, the openness of our home to friends
and family, and the extension of that to Sani our unique, shared
holiday spot on the Langebaan Lagoon, my parents values of
non-pretentiousness, mountains, Matroosberg, skiing and sailing.
Some
words from Jenny Viotti, long time family friend from the old Sani
days:
I
have such special memories of both your Father and your Mother - how
they introduced us to you all at your shack on Rietbay, how you
children all learnt to sail together, the Easter Regattas, etc., and
much, much more! Those were very special times. ‘Uncle Burn’, as
my children called him, was someone very special in all our lives. It
was a tragic moment when such an active man should lose the use of
his legs so young. How bravely he lived the rest of his life.
And
from the De Graafs in New Zealand, Erika a very dear god daughter of
Ern's, and her husband Pete:
As
a family we have such fond memories of holidays spent in Llandudno.
Ern and Ange were always so full of life and keen to be in on any
activity - lunch on the deck , building sandcastles on the beach and
beer shandies at sunset after walks to Sandy Bay (with numerous dogs
in tow). And later on, after his accident, Ern was always keen to
hear about our adventures, never feeling sorry for himself – just
excited for us.
It
is the end of an era for us all. You’ve lost an amazing father and
grandfather, I have lost a much-loved Uncle and Godfather and Pete
has lost a good friend.
And
then from someone who probably best illustrates the openness of Ern
and Angie's home: PD, the son of friends from England, who came to
stay for a week or two and ended up staying in our home for 10 years.
PD and his wife Lily in Australia:
Ernie
was unique in every way and a very special person - he was my boss
and our best man. Ernie had a wonderful sense of humour - he was a
no-nonsense person and was often the instigator of all sorts of
projects, a great motivator to get family and friends together. He
loved his outdoors and his independence and we all know how difficult
the last 15 years will have been for him and, despite what he
endured, he still always remained the Ernie we all knew. We will all
really miss you Uncle Trouble!
On
Sunday afternoon, Tessa and Dave with Mico, and Sandra, Sebastian,
Pheobe and I with Alex sailed into this bay. And that we could do so,
was thanks in many ways to Ern and to Sani and it felt like a fitting
tribute to some of what he has made possible for us. But it felt
strange not to be able to phone him so that he could look out at us
from his deck.
And
then from the person who carries forward the Lanz family name, Ernest
John or EJ, will read his father Brian's tribute to Ernie:
(EJ
told us that his father was so determined that the family name go
forward, that he was going to be named Ernest John regardless of
whether he was born a boy or a girl!)
"Jokkie"
as I knew him was always the brave, adventurous Uncle who did things
like riding motorbikes, skiing, hiking, sailing, climbing mountains
etc. I'm not sure whether I admired him or thought he was a bit
overboard. Nevertheless life around him was always exciting. Except
for skiing, I remember doing all of those things with him at various
times over the years.
More
recently we were on opposite sides of the Currie Cup Rugby spectrum.
He was a staunch STORMERS and WP supporter and I was a SHARK. But we
would support each other's teams against the BULLS. I will miss the
weekly telephone calls to discuss the weekend's rugby.
And,
if there is a Heaven, I'm sure Ernie is busy hiking from one side to
the other on perfectly GOOD LEGS with Angie and their numerous dogs
in tow!
RIP
JOKKIE
I
think we would be doing Ernie's memory a dis-service if we only said
sweet things about him and did not acknowledge that he could also be
a hell of a difficult bugger. He was not known for excess patience.
But these aspects were very much part of the character that he was,
and he carried them with a certain grace. It was the difficult bugger
in him that motivated a joke between Sandra and Ernie. Sandra told
him, when she and I got married, that she was marrying me on
condition that I did not turn out like him. Well Sandra its probably
too late now, but, judging by what has been said of him today, you
could have done a hell of a lot worse!
The
last tribute to be read out is from the only grand child who ever got
to cash in her 'Olifants points' from Ernie. Oney will read Lauren's
tribute:
On
the 21st of June I flew half away across the globe. I arrived in a
city atop a mountain. I arrived in a place were no one spoke English
and dried lama can be bought on the street corner. But it was on the
28th of June that the world I knew changed. Suddenly I live in a
world without you in it. You have been a constant all my life. You
have been one of the greatest influences in my life. I am scared for
what losing you means to my understanding of self, for you are
inextricably linked with my growing up, my outlook on life, and with
who I am. I will miss you so much.
But
that is just my own selfish take on things. I know wherever you are
you are light on your feet, and God knows that's something you've
waited a long time for, so you'll be pleased to know I've poured
myself a whiskey and soda, and I'm toasting to that.
PS.
On Thursday I cycled down the infamous death road in Bolivia, one of
the coolest things I've ever done; thanks for teaching me to ride a
bike.
We
will be adding a second plaque to Angie's Bench, up the road here.
And it will now no longer be just Angie's bench – it will be Ernie
and Angie's Bench.
Apparently
on one of his last days, in the hospital when Ern was struggling to
talk he had said something that seemed to be – Angie is waiting for
me. Someone who knows him very well commented that if he had been
more himself he would more likely have said: Shit man Angela, can't
you see I'm coming!
That
bench in its stunning location, has become a very special place to me
and to Tessa and to Oney, and many others, strangers included, like
to pause on it a while. If you don't yet know the bench I encourage
you to visit it. I try to every time I am in Llandudno. I love to sit
there looking out across this beach, looking back at the house we
grew up in, thinking. From that vantage we will inevitably think
about what we have lost. But much more importantly we will think
about all that we have gained.
After the tribute we made our way down to the beach to cast flowers into the sea for Ernie.
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