Dziadzia’s Funeral Wishes
John ( Jock ) CRAIG >>>( Dziadzia, Tatus ).
D.O.B. 6/10/1922 – 31/12/2015.
Place- GLASGOW
Background;
Born to William and Helen ( Dolly). Brother to Jim, David, Esther and Charlotte.
Little Jock was asked by his parents to look after his Blind Grandmother at the age of 5. He did this with great aptitude for over 3 yrs. At the age of 16 yrs Jock decided to join the British Army as the WW2 was nearing. Jock felt if he’s going to die he would at least die with a full tummy. Life in Glasgow was tough as a young growing boy. Jock was suffering then from malnutrition. Jock’s father was negligent of his children and made their upbringing extremely difficult.
Jock joined the British Army at 16 where he lied about his age and was pushed into the Cameroonian Artillery Forces. 6 yrs later at aged 22 Jock was summoned to serve in Normandy where he served to the end of WW2. Jock met Babcia in Germany in a town called Havelsa. Jock and Babcia decided to marry in Scotland as Jock sponsored Babcia out of war torn Germany. Babcia had escaped through the Russian underground from Poland, as her family were under threat from both Russian and German troops.
Jock and Babcia married in Scotland and had a baby named George Wieslaw in 1948. Jock decided to re-join the British Army and was re-posted to Dusseldorf, they all stayed in Germany for 7 yrs after having two other children Ronald Zdzislaw and Konrad ( Radek ) John; both born in Rinteln, Germany.
From there the family were posted to Libya for short time of 18 months, then back to the United Kingdom for 3 years,. Jock again was re-posted to Borneo for 12 months as his family were left in Leicester U.K.
Again, Jock and Family were re-assigned to be posted again to Penang, Malaysia. This posting lasted over 12 months. Jock and Babcia decided to end this life of British Army chaos, and chose to come to Australia, where Jock got a job with Meat Inspectors Industry as he had previously worked as a Butcher in Scotland. His skills in the Meat Industry were used throughout the WW2 yrs.
Jock worked for many yrs as a Meat Inspector, but in his final yrs became The Union Secretary and fought many battles for this industry. Jock retired from the Meat Industry in 1986 and spent a number of yrs enjoying his retirement. Babcia became unwell during the 1990’s requiring more care, he looked after her in her final years after she had suffered Liver Disease. In 1997, Babcia suddenly died of Liver abscess leaving Dziadzia shocked and heartbroken.
Jock became more well acquainted with his new role in the Family as a loving Dziadzia, however his final years have been fighting for a battle involving a family divided by a property dispute. He found this unbearable and extremely destructive. He remained positive and cheerful, he then found out that he was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer and needed to be nursed at home.
In his final months he became focussed on justice for all, enjoyed his Narrative Life Review, and would enjoy The Target in the Newspaper. His favourite diet Crumbed Fish in Bok Choy at Central Market.
He loved spending time with his Grand Children. Dziadzia had enjoyed a very independent life devoted to family life in The Baker- Craig household. His final months were very comfortable and positive.
Dziadzia’s message to everyone was; live life to the full, you only have this life to remember. Devote your time to the young children. Don’t give the shirt off your back to your children if they already disrespect you. Give your heart but not your Will. Will’s are only a message for the future.
Dziadzia leaves behind his Life Review and recordings to family.
Scottish Funerals
Death and Funeral Customs
An old funeral rite from the Scottish Highlands is to bury the deceased with a wooden plate resting on his chest. The plate contained a small amount of earth and salt to represent the future of the deceased. The earth signified the decaying of the body to become one with the earth while the salt represented the soul, which did not decay. This rite is known as “earth laid upon a corpse”.
Dziadzia’s Favourite Music.
1. Chorus of The Hebrew Slaves. Ravel.
2. Scottish Soldier. Andy Stewart.
3. Time To Say Goodbye. Sarah Brightman and Andreaus Boccelli
Dziadzia’s Poetry.
———-
Dziadzia’s Song.
Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves
Fly, thought, on wings of gold,
go settle upon the slopes and the hills
where the sweet airs of our
native soil smell soft and mild!
Greet the banks of the river Jordan
and Zion’s tumbled towers.
Oh, my country, so lovely and lost!
Oh remembrance so dear yet unhappy!
Golden harp of the prophetic wise men,
why hang so silently from the willows?
Rekindle the memories in our hearts,
tell us about the times gone by!
Remembering the fate of Jerusalem
play us a sad lament
or else be inspired by the Lord
to fortify us to endure our suffering
A Prayer in the Prospect of Death: Robert Burns
Our Father in Heaven, and almighty Power,
Source of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, before an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
As I have strayed into those parts
Of life I should have shunned –
Now something loudly in my heart,
Pains me for what I have done.
You know that you did give me,
Many passions wild and strong;
And answering to the siren’s plea
Very often led me wrong.
When my human strengths proved short,
And wisdom stepped aside;
Do You, All-Good, for such You art –
In shades of judgment hide?
Where purposefully I did stray,
No other plea may I now give,
But You are good and goodness may
Find it loving to forgive
In the seat of darkness Poem for my Dad
30/01/2016
I sat in his lasting room and watched his breathing.
I would hold on and let go with a gasp and think, why do I have this
happening again.
Stay and go, my dear old man, no more talks, no more
of your same and familiar stories. I would sense the beginning tide,
I would feel the parting waves. I would see those hands, and I would
lose that face.
Then I would hear that remembered voice and answer, what’s
happening with us today? Couldn’t stand to say nothing, but now you’re
gone there’s everything but nothing for the embroidered Kilt.
I hope you found the train ride pleasant with familiar faces of your day;
I just stood at the station and kept waving as the last carriage left.
It’s gone from my sight with the memory of what we agreed to build.
But you never said it would be like this, the ache is so deep inside.
The day you left with the suitcase packed; is that what came of 39 to
45; from a war torn to shreds by a broken down photograph of the
family by the beach of Malay.
I can’t say it all, but the days are long and the navigation empty, like the
seat of darkness where must I travel to find; my old man sitting waiting
for a journey’s tumbling stone.
The dance of the Scottish Soldier is buried in our minds, and the wave of
children dancing here, we send off our old man, this enduring Dziadzia,
of all men, became my Father and now my dearest friend, has been
sitting and waiting together favoured by the return of another precious
one. Both together hand in hand are seated, as they blow kisses to our
hearts.
We cherish their history, as the seat of darkness shines shadows that
form our dreams.
As I sat in his lasting room, just an empty floor board is seen,
representing my walk to Central Market, a day of breathless fish in bok
choy sizzling.
I wish for the days return and the pain to leave, my old man’s gone and
he leaves behind his empty seat. I fluff a pillow and off to sleep.
The turn of a page Poem 3…… 6/3/16
From the turn of a page I walk through a life,
of mine, of his and shared by a touch from time.
I’m not sure if I’m made out for this,
I’m just a son, a boy and still with the same heart.
What happened to us, through the clock that ticked away;
my mirror tells me that it’s just a blurred portrait merging.
I turn my head to see if my dream made it over the line,
but it just didn’t happen at all.
The turn of a page,
and I left him saying, ‘ you got the keys ‘?
No, the train just pulled in;
He’s gone!
A SCOTTISH SOLDIER
Andy Stewart
There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier
Who wandered far away and soldiered far away
There was none bolder with good broad shoulder
He fought many affray, and fought and won
He’d seen the glory, he’d told the story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious
But now he’s sighing, his heart is crying
To leave those green hills of Tyrol
(Chorus)Because those green hills are not highland hills
Or the island hills, they’re not my land’s hills
And fair as these green foreign hills may be
They are not the hills of home
And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier
Who wandered far away and soldiered far away
Sees leaves are falling, and death is calling
And he will fade away in that far land
He called his piper, his trusty piper
And bade him sound a lay
A pibroch sad to play
Upon a hillside, a Scottish hillside
Not on those green hills of Tyrol
(Chorus)
And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier
Will wander far no more and soldier far no more
And on a hillside, a Scottish hillside
You’ll see a piper play his soldier home
He’s seen the glory, he’s told the story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious
The bugle’s ceased now, he is at peace now
Far from those green hills of Tyrol
(Chorus x 2)