I think ‘home' is one of the most evocative words in our language. That one little word encompasses our heart, our family, our escape, our refuge, and so many other warming, comforting, nurturing associations that just can't be described so eloquently any other way.

 

But what makes a home? The phrase that first comes to mind is that home is ‘where the heart is' - but what happens, I wonder, when your heart leaves your home? This thought has been on my mind continuously for the last few weeks. My father, who was most definitely my mother's heart, lost his gallant fight for life in our family home a few short weeks ago.

In the weeks and days that have followed, my sisters and I have helped Mum carry out their plans of moving closer to us, and as we packed up the collection that had made their house a home over 48 years of marriage, I worried that something would be lost in the move, that my mother might never feel at home again. But I was wrong; within two short days, her new home emerged with all the love and memories of the old home intact. As we placed the furniture Dad had restored, hung the art they had bought together, the pictures of their life and the pieces that instantly called memories to all our minds, I felt the kind of comfort that only a real home can bring. We didn't - we couldn't - leave Dad behind, because the building was never the heart of their home; it's us, our memories and the pieces we gather along the way that come together to make us feel like no other place in the world can.

As Father's Day fast approaches, I remember that this time last year, I had the privilege of writing about my own father in this column, spending a morning with him getting our photographs taken and, now, hearing just how many people he showed that issue to when it was published. Now those photos will hang on my wall, and become part of my home.

One final word must be thank you - to the amazing team here at HB who gave me time with my father in his last days, a gift for which I will never be able to thank them enough.

Wendy