Uncle Peter

My Uncle Peter died today.

I had gone into the village to sort out various things to do with the church for this Sunday since both churchwardens will be away where I was told that the lead had been stripped off the village hall roof, so I checked and discovered that all the flashings had gone from the church roof too. This was not a good start to the day, and when I got back there was a phone message from my cousin Robbie to say that his dad had died in the early hours of the morning - the message was timed at 10 o'clock which with the eight hour time difference means that he had probably phoned within an hour.

Uncle Peter was a remarkable man. His proper name was Arthur Francis Huston because my great-grandfather was a man of strong opinions and when Nan, my grandmother and his daughter-in-law, said that she wanted to call her first born Peter he had declared that "every little street boy in Dublin is called Peter" (a fine comment from a man called Joseph!) and that "an eldest son should be named for his father" - hence Arthur. When she said that she would also like to name him for her favourite brother Frank, he was equally scathing about the use of diminutives - hence Francis. Anyway here he is as a baby and as a beautiful little boy -

When he was still a little boy he got TB and spent a long time in hospital lying on his back with a tubercular hip.

When it was at last clear that he would get well, although he was on crutches for some time and had a limp all his life, my grandparents decided that they could have another child and my mother was born. Here they are in the garden.

Mummy always said that he was a wonderful brother who always had time for his little sister, playing with her when she was small and allowing her to join in deep discussions with serious minded sixth-formers when she was still at primary school.

He went to Kings to train as a doctor, and despite further ill-health leading to his losing a kidney, he qualified and, in the aftermath of the second worold war which had taken so many of his contemporaries including his best friend Geoff, he served as an acting Lieutenant Colonel in UNRA dealing with refugees.

Back in civillian life he met Barbara
They became engaged, and were married on April 27th 1946. My cousin Shelagh was born in July 1947 to be followed at roughly two year intervals by Jackie, Richard, Patsy and Robbie.

The above show Shelagh, Jackie and Richard, then a truly dreadful photograph taken by my father in which I am the baby with my four cousins, my mother, their father and our grandmother, and finally Nan with seven grandchildren.

At this point Peter was 'head-hunted' and joined the brain-drain to America. After a time in New York and Atlantic City, they headed north to Canada where they settled in Regina, Saskatchewan. 'Settled' with Peter was never the defining word: while war was still waging there, he went to Vietnam to work in rehabilitating the young victims of war leaving their two grown-up daughters in Canada and taking the three younger children to Hong Kong. Peter acquired a medal from the President of South Vietnam for his work and Barbara acquired something else; she was spending some time in Hong Kong and some time working in an orphanage in Vietnam where she met and fell in love with Paul.

This is Paul who became their sixth child and third son. Back in Canada they decided that Paul needed a brother closer to him in age than the adult Rick and teenage Robbie, and so Philip, a Cambodian orphan, became son number four.

A few years later Uncle Peter was commissioned to do a study of crippling diseases in children in various places around the world, and they landed up in Bangladesh where Lili joined the family and evened up the son and daughter ratio to four apiece.

Back in Canada Peter had 'Huston Heights' (an apartment block for wheelchir users) named after him , Barbara was ordained, and the number of grand-daughters began to grow - 6 by the time they celebrated their golden wedding. They had by then retired and settled on Gabriola Island BC though Barbara continued her work as a priest. Peter, who has always written poems became a published poet with a slim volume of his own rather than in collections from literary groups. (I will ask my cousins permission to blog a few of them.)

Here they are with their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren a day or so after their Golden Wedding. Yes, that is just the one family - since then Lili has added five children, Paul has added two, and their grand-daughters have also been very busy.

I blogged about their Diamond wedding in April 2006, and there are various pictures dotted about through my blogs.

After failing health for some time, Uncle Peter became very ill at the end of last month and went into hospital. With treatment he rallied sufficiently to go home, where he died peacefully surrounded by his family. These two pictures (lifted from the Extended Huston Family Group on Facebook) show him with Morgan, the latest addition to the family, and with Barbara in hospital on their 62nd wedding anniversary at the end of last month.

Most of my life Uncle Peter has lived far away in another continent and been only an occasional visitor, but he has always been a very strong presence in my life; I feel so grateful to have know him and very sorry for the next great-grandchild who will be born later this year and will never know his or her wonderful great-grandad.

Just an odd, and very sad coincidence: tomorrow I am heading off to Wales for a week - last time I went to Wales my Uncle Frans (Daddy's older brother) died the day before I went.