It Has Been Three Months

Dad - some thoughts written over the third month without you

I read in church without you again today. Chris has taken your place on the rota. I still can’t believe I will never get to read in church with you. I was so excited to do it. I was so excited to hear you read again too. I got complimented on my voice, but if you had read it would have been you receiving the praise. It was you who taught me how to read in church. Thank you. 

…

Another Treacle Market has been and gone. Another without you. I’ve found myself measuring in Treacle Markets. Last time I saw you, the day you died, then 2 more. Chris is finding it hard not to buy you a croissant. The kids miss their £1 from Granddad!

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We watched a film you did filming for. We couldn’t see you though. Isn’t that just a metaphor for our lives now?

It Has Been Two Months

Dad - some thoughts written over the second month without you

Parenting while grieving is hard. Parenting grieving children is hard. Grieving children don’t always realise they’re grieving. And they don’t always grieve in ways that make you feel sorry for them.

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My body hurts. 

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Everyone talks at me all of the time. I don’t want to talk about it. Talking won’t bring you back. And it doesn’t make me feel better. And taking everyone else’s grief onto my shoulders is so heavy. 

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When I think of the utter bastards running this world, and how they all live to grand old ages. It’s insane. You are such a good person. You have made such a beautiful difference in this world. So many people love you. So many people’s lives touched by you, changed for the better because of you. Make it make sense. Make it make sense. 

~

Just had a moment in the car park that was the last place I saw you. 3 weeks before you died. We didn’t have a proper goodbye that day because you were in a hurry to get J & L home. When I got in the car today though, I saw this van parked near us and it made me laugh. “‘Tis but a scratch! I’ve had worse…” Just the sort of thing you’d say!

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Remember when we went to the Tower of London together? Just you and me. I got the train in from Winchester and we met, and you bought our tickets with your Clubcard vouchers. It was such a lovely day. 

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We buried you today.

It Has Been a Month

Dad - some thoughts written over the first month without you

In amongst the cruelty of it all, I find myself unable to write. So many thoughts and feelings and no way to write them down. I can’t speak them and when I try to write they disappear, leaving only trite sentences that mean nothing. 

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I have lost my Father, the man who held me, made me feel safe, who was always proud of me, even when I sat in the midst of chaos. I am set adrift on an ocean of tears. Life will never be the same again. My heart is broken and I am lost for words.

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What did I learn from you? Relax your muscles when it’s cold. Crying won’t get it written. Generosity. You never forget your first love. Consequences. There is always a joke. Grief is for us. 

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I saw you cry so many times. Unafraid, unashamed. I remember you weeping at the dinner table, as you talked about identifying the bodies of your colleague and one of the lads who had been killed while out cycling. You taught us so well about grief, but you didn’t teach us how to live without you. 

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I remember doing the dishes with you, you washing, me drying, and we sang together. Go Down Moses, if you were in a mischievous mood, and I Know Him So Well - with you taking Barbara Dickson’s part to my Elaine Paige. 

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You loved music, always listening to the radio or popping a record on. James Taylor, Vin Garbutt, John Denver. The care with which you put the needle down on to the vinyl, left hand in the air, ready for the dancing. Folk music on the radio in the evening. You made a mix tape of Irish songs for us to listen to in the car on our way to Ireland, and printed out all the words so we could sing along.