here's to you, Dad

We laid my father-in-law to rest today, 13 days after he unexpectedly passed away in his sleep in the early hours of
May 4.

He and my mother-in-law were in Perth at the time, to celebrate the 80th birthday of one of Mum's brothers. They had been looking forward to the occasion because another brother -- whom she and her siblings had not seen in 50 years, had said he would fly to Perth for the birthday bash.

So almost three weeks ago, Brian drove them both to the airport and saw them off.

From all reports, as well as from the pictures that had been taken of the birthday bash and reunion, a good time was had by all.

Dad looked fine in the pictures. He tucked into his food and even enjoyed two glasses of beer at the birthday lunch on Saturday -- something he hadn't done in years.

The next day, he simply said he wasn't feeling too well, had a slow and easy day, and watched a game of cricket (his favourite sport) before going to bed. And just like that, he was gone.

He was 86.

Brian and I managed to reach Perth just before midnight that same day. But we didn't realise there would be so much red tape to sort through, and it took over a week before Dad could be repatriated to Singapore.

In the end, we held a special service in Perth last Sunday for relatives and friends there, and then we flew home to prepare for the funeral in Singapore. Dad only came home on Tuesday night, and then we had a three-day wake before the funeral and cremation yesterday.

Today, we collected his ashes and had them interred in the columbarium of St Mary Of The Angels, a church that Mum has been attending for years.

It has been a long and stressful two weeks for us all. But mingled with the sorrow of our loss is the joy that Dad went off in the best way possible -- in his sleep, without illness and suffering. Because he had not been ill, his face was still full and he simply looked as if he were sleeping.

But the lesson that I took away from this whole experience was the fact that one quiet, unassuming man could impact so many lives.

From the friends and relatives who came from various parts of Australia to attend the service in Perth to the colleagues, friends and relatives who came for the wake and the funeral in Singapore (some Aussie relatives who had attended the Perth service even flew to Singapore to be with the family in our time of grief), all showed in one way or other how much Dad meant to them.

I was awed, yet not surprised. My memories of my father-in-law are all good.

The first time we met, when Brian brought me home for his family's annual Christmas celebration over 25 years ago, I was in my early 20s and still very shy. Coming from a small family, I was overwhelmed by the size of the Miller clan. And when Brian left me on my own to help serve their guests, I was a little lost.

But Uncle must have noticed. He quietly came up to me and, with a twinkle in his eye, asked if he could top up my drink. He stayed to chat for a while before moving on. But those few minutes were enough to make me feel at ease.

That became the pattern of our relationship over the years. Whenever Brian brought me over for a visit, Uncle always asked if he could get me something from the bar, or if he could top up my drink. And he always spent some time chatting with me.

When Brian and I finally got married after seven years of courtship, I had grown so used to calling him Uncle that I found it hard to call him Dad. Until one day, some weeks after the wedding, we happened to be alone for a few minutes and he asked, "Why are you still calling me Uncle?"

In that instant, I realised he was actually hurt by that. All feelings of awkwardness fled then, and he has been Dad ever since.

In my near-20 years of marriage, I have grown to love Brian's family like my own. But I've always had a soft spot for Dad. Despite the stories I've heard of how stern and difficult he could also be, I have only seen his gentle, loving side and appreciated his quiet humour.

At the wake, there was an Indian gentleman who came with his family to mourn Dad's passing. He had been a peon in the office which Dad headed, and he never forgot that Dad had been the one who had given him the opportunity to do better.

It was decades ago, but even after Dad retired, the gentleman and his wife would visit every year at Christmas with gifts of delicious homecooked food for the family. Such was the loyalty Dad inspired, yet he never took such blessings for granted or as his due. Every time they visited, Dad welcomed them warmly and voiced his appreciation for the wonderful food.

There were many others who came to the wake and the funeral with stories and memories of their own.

As for me, I will always remember and love the kind, observant man with a twinkle in his eye who took the time and made the effort to make this shy and rather lost young woman feel at home so many, many years ago.

I may not have a drink in my hand now, but here's to Douglas Miller. My father ... in law and in spirit.

Till we meet again, Dad.


Douglas Miller
Dec 20, 1922 - May 4, 2009