Saturday, 16 August 2014
My Daddy, My Loss, My Hope
When I got the phone call a little over 3 weeks ago to tell me it's time to come home and say goodbye, I sobbed big fat snotty very unattractive sobs for two days. My daughter had gone to stay with friends for the weekend and I was able to use her absence to be upset without upsetting her. I set off a few days later with a heavy heart but as I grew closer to home, it became lighter.
Spending those four days with my mum and my sisters, playing the bizarre waiting game, will oddly be one of my best memories. We laughed, we drank, we ate, we looked at old photos and all with Dad in the corner slowly fading away.
An hour before he died, I kissed him on the forehead and said 'Love you Dad. It's ok, we'll all be ok'. It was the last time I touched him or talked to him, even though I stayed by his side until his last breath.
I always thought losing someone so close would mean living with a black cloud over your head for months or even years, until the pain would slowly subside to a dull ache that is to be borne for the rest of your life. Age and already being a parent obviously has a lot to do with me coping positively. I've been thinking that I must be in denial, but even today, when I would normally be sending a Happy Birthday message to my Dad, there are still no tears.
I think about him and smile. I remember the happy times, stories and memories I'd long forgotten keep flooding back. The passing of a parent is natural, we all know it will happen one day. I have nothing I wish I'd said. I knew he loved me and he knew I loved him. He may not have always been overjoyed with my choices but he knew they were mine to make and with that my mistakes to make.
He lives on in the stories, in his children and grandchildren; the mannerisms, the curly hair and the humour.
I will miss his forever, but I won't cry because he's not here, I'll keep smiling because he was.