Love at first sight

Catherine Nicolette
I was on another of my hobbies; to research family history and record our wondrous happenings and interesting personalities for posterity. So I got hold of Dad on a Saturday afternoon, armed with pen and writing pad, and a tape recorder with a little microphone. Dad looked at me, 'What's this?' he enquired mildly, his bushy eyebrows jutting over his shrewd Irish eyes. Dad knew me too well. When I was up to mischief (more often than not), he invariably knew it. I could always hide my facial expressions from others - never from Dad, or from Mom. That is the difficulty of being with people who have known you from the moment of your birth. Ah well.

Anyway, I said brightly to Dad, 'Oh Dad, please you won't mind, I need to take a tape recording from you because I am doing our family history'. Well, Dad flew so quickly out of the kitchen into the back yard I had to run out after him. 'Not on your life,' said Dad. 'I'm not telling you anything. And I'm certainly not going down on tape, that's for sure'. Well, I coaxed and pleaded. One thing the three Whittle girls know, is that Dad had a stern exterior which covered the softest of hearts. If Dad said no, absolutely not, and you coaxed and pleaded, and hung on his arm, and reminded him of how happy he was when you were born (Dad absolutely adored his children), and opened your eyes wide and looked helpless and sad, Dad's heart would melt.

So I pulled out all the stops. Eventually Dad graciously assented to be interviewed and his words written down. However, he resolutely declined the tape recorder. Our negotiation completed to the satisfaction of both parties, I trotted after Dad as he did the garden, writing down his comments. Part of the terms and conditions was that Dad was certainly not going to sit down and be interviewed, I would have to follow in his footsteps as he continued his usual Saturday afternoon work. As one of my questions, I asked Dad, 'How did you meet Mom?'

'Well it was like this,' Dad said. Now that he had decided to Tell All, he actually started enjoying himself. 'I was in South Africa, on my way back to Europe. I went into a library in Springs with my friend John.* As I entered the doorway, I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had blonde hair shining like gold in the sunlight coming through the window behind her. She was looking down, stamping library books.  I grabbed my friend's hand and pulled him out of the doorway. I said to him, 'If that woman were Catholic, I'd marry her.' John said, 'Well, you're in luck. She is Catholic.''Dad looked at me, and his face was radiant. 'That is how I met your mother. And she is still as beautiful as the day I met her.' As I looked at  Dad, his face was soft with remembrance.  I realised that, for him, it had been love at first sight.

Today I was on the phone to Mom, the two of us catching up on news. I mentioned to her that I wanted to write a blog post about their meeting. 'Oh yes,' she said, 'Did Dad tell you the rest of the story?' Intrigued, I asked her to continue.
'Well,' Mom said, 'Your Dad wanted to meet me. So he went to Mass at 6 o' clock in the morning on Sunday;  I wasn't there. Dad then went to Mass at 8 o' clock. I still wasn't there. Dad went to 10 o' clock Mass, and there I came, together with my Dad and Mom and my brother and two sisters.' And Mom laughed, a young note in her voice.

And I realised that, all these years later, Mom is still as in love with Dad as he was with her when he went to heaven.

*Name has been changed
*Photograph was taken by Rev. Catherine. Please feel free to use the photo copyright free for any Christian, educational or spiritual purpose.