Confirmation

I was still worrying, after Kath's death, about what had become of her. Silly, isn't it - but I couldn't help it. I kept thinking about how lost she had been and how she was unable at the end to ask the Lord into her life.

On the one hand, it seemed to me that her 'stroke of midnight' passing was very significant. It felt like an appointment - as if it had been timed to let me know that God had come for her indeed.

Nonetheless, a nasty little voice in my ear kept whispering that I was being too presumptuous, that I was making something out of nothing, and who was I to think that the Almighty would be sending signs to me anyway? The seed of the serpent was at work, as he always is, trying to undermine and destroy. All I could do was to keep on quietly Knockin' on Heaven's Door with my hope that she was safe.

It was a Sunday about a month after my mother's passing, and I went to church. There was a couple doing door duty whom I hadn't seen for many weeks because he had been preaching elsewhere. As I went in, they pointed out some friends of theirs - long-time Christians - visiting from about 500 miles down country.

I always believe in making visitors feel at home so I went and sat right behind these people and got talking to them. Exactly how the conversation started I don't remember, but the wife, who was a lovely lady, of her own accord launched into telling me about how God gives. Her final words as the service started up were, "..and you know, God comes at midnight..." She turned away and I sat transfixed: in fact the service went by in something of a blur.

After it was over I asked her if she had any idea what her last words meant to me. She shook her head. I explained the circumstances of my mom's illness and her death, and how the words she had just spoken were an answer to the question that had been plaguing me.

She wasn't the least bit surprised. "Well, we've had a great week's fishing in our friends' boat, " she said . "We had a good catch and we were going to get away back home first thing this morning, but something made us decide instead to come to church. As soon as you walked in the door, I knew I had a message of some sort for you. And the second part of the message is that God loves you."

I felt totally humbled. Here I was wallowing in my unbelief, and the answer had been sent to me via people from 500 miles away.

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Picking up the Pieces in 1985

The day after Ken died I had half a dozen Review hearings to do for the Accident Compensation Corporation - a full day's work. I'd rung the office the afternoon before to tell them he had passed on and was asked if I wanted the hearings schedule cancelled. I'd said no - the show must go on. The rooms had been booked and the arrangements with all the parties were made, and anyway I thought it would be good for me and for Kath not to sit moping. I took her with me.

I always held the Hamilton hearings high up in one of the city's central buildings, with huge windows and great views out over the rooftops. It was a brilliant sunny winter's day. Kath sat in an adjacent room, I popped in and out between my court sessions, and we were able to have lunch together. That was the start of a new phase of life, in which I stepped into my father's shoes. It was the natural thing to do and it was also the only thing to do - there was no-one else.

The other time I felt my dad reach out to me was about 5 months later in early 1986 after we had made the decision not to sell this property - which he'd often said we would have to sell after he was gone. With its half-built house and 10 acres, it wasn't easy to take on, but I loved the place, and could no more have sold it than fly in the air.

It was over the Christmas 1985 holidays, which we spent here, that Kath and I made up our minds to come back here to live. It meant finishing the house, selling my home in Cambridge and moving all my stuff. I also had to complete my contracts with the ACC and the Waikato Polytechnic, where I was the lecturer in Business Law. I was already signed up for the coming year. And I had no idea what I was going to do for an income.

One day not too long after the decision was made, we came home from somewhere and I pulled up at the first of our gates. This is aways kept shut because of stock. As I watched my mom go forward to open the gate for me to drive through, it came to me how many times my dad must have done this over the years, and I suddenly felt his presence again. At that same instant, a powerful sense of warmth, peace, love and "rightness" flooded through me, lasting for several moments. It felt like a blessing - an approval of our decision to stay.

I haven't had any experiences like this with Kath. But one event connected with her had a huge impact on me ...

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Thursday, 8th August 1985

My dad died in the Waikato Hospital in Hamilton in August 1985, just a couple of days before his birthday. It was a huge wrench for both me and my mom.

Kath had spent a very grueling week at his side in the Waikato Hospital. When it was all over we went back to my house in the late afternoon and once we got to bed that night she was soon asleep.

But I lay awake with a book I'd brought back to New Zealand 2 years back from his twin sister's estate in Marblehead MA called "Life After Life" by Raymond Moody - a doctor who researched many near-death episodes after some of his patients started telling him about their experiences. My dad was no longer on this earth and I simply wanted to understand what might be happening to him, that was all. I'd read the book before, but I needed to read it again.

How long I'd been reading I don't know but suddenly I was aware of my father's presence in the room. I can recall this as clearly as if it was yesterday.

"Well, Ken," I said inside my head, "I guess you know all about everything, now."
"No," he replied, "Not everything ... just some things ..." With that, he was gone. I put the book down and settled down to sleep.

Now, you might tell me I had dozed and dreamed it. You might say the book influenced my mind - although it says nothing about ADCs (After Death Communications). It focuses entirely on experiences of people who were either close to death or died clinically and who for one reason or another revived and lived to tell the tale. Definitely no ADCs there.

In fact, though I've got a couple of books on ADC listed in the sidebar for visitors who might be interested, I have to confess I STILL haven't read a single book on the topic, and probably never will. So ADC sure wasn't in my thoughts 20 years ago.

Like it or not, I choose to see this episode as evidence, not only that there is a life beyond death, but also that the process of growing and learning continues, as my father had always said.

I think he came back to tell me that.

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Kenneth Methuen Howitt - My Father

This picture shows my father and my grandfather - William Ernest Howitt - both of them Regimantal Sergeant Major of the 1st Battalion Scots Guards in their day.

Sadly, I don't remember my grandfather very well because he'd been gassed in the trenches in France in the 1914-18 War and he was never a well man after that. He died when I was a toddler. He used to call me "Poppy".

My dad had plenty of time to prepare himself for death - he lived for 5 years after being diagnosed with chronic lymphatic leukaemia in 1980, following a freak accidental exposure to agricultural chemicals, and was in full possession of his faculties until the end.

He had a stong belief in the continued existence of the soul after dying and in his final years often referred to his body as "the old overcoat".

His death was much harder for me to take than Kath's, partly because we were much closer spiritually and I guess, too, it's harder to part with someone who is still fully "there" with you until the last.

He had always insisted I get a good education because his own schooling was unsatisfactory - something he had to rectify later in life in the army. He wasn't going to see me go the same route, and he set an example by always being open to learning new stuff. "Knowledge" was his motto.

He used to tell me that we are like tapes, and the more learning and knowledge we have on our tape when we die, the better. At the time he passed away down in Hamilton in August 1985, 2 days off his 70th birthday, he was talking of learning about and getting into the world of computing. This background will help you understand the communication I'll describe in my next post.

Framed Art Prints and Posters by Patricia Howitt @ Artflakes

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Moments in Time 4

Two more photos taken at about the same as the last one - all during the family's visit to us in Scotland:


Kath on the right again - this one obviously taken at Balmoral.



I think this was at the docks in Aberdeen - me with my little bakelite brownie camera in hand! Must say, I'm loving finding these photos.

The thing I can remember most about this visit was a blazing row (unheard of in our family) between my dad and my grandmother on the topic of me having braces on my teeth because they were starting to protrude. My grandmother said, "Leave her as God made her," and my father disagreed entirely. It turned out I had a crowded mouth and had to have a tooth removed at the top on each side, followed by the usual painful period of braces. But I'm very glad my dad went ahead and did what he knew was right!

Framed Art Prints and Posters by Patricia Howitt @ Artflakes

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Moments in Time 3

Here's another family photo spanning three generations that I've just come across and really like:



Left to right: My nana (Ken's mother), a lady I can't remember, Ken's sister Ena, me and Kath. I just don't know exactly where it was taken, but I know it was somewhere near Aberdeen, when the family came up to visit us and we went to see Balmoral. I like the way Kath's got her hand on my shoulder.

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Moments in Time 2

Here is another frozen moment - my mom (on the right) and my dad's twin sister Ena, sitting together on a wall, somewhere - probably before my mom and dad got married. Her pose is almost identical to another striking pic I have of her sitting on a wall in London, which I have misplaced (I hope temporarily).


It's great getting these photos out and looking at them again - it's almost as if time doesn't exist - and it's a great way to bridge those years that in many ways I'd rather forget.

My dear neighbour's wife is suffering from dementia and sometimes when I see her she reminds me of Kath - and like Kath she has her bad days and her good days. I think it's much harder for a man to cope with this stuff than for a woman, so I visit often and let him get it off his chest to me.

I went in a couple of hours ago after doing some shopping, and he is coming over tomorrow to help me change the belt on my waterpump. I think a bit of time away does him good, and I am and have always been eternally grateful for the help he has given me over the years.

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