Happy Fathers Day



So we've done the year of firsts. Our birthdays, my dad's birthdays, Christmas, the anniversary of his death. I couldn't even talk about that. It hurts so much. Way too much for me to still have to carry. I can remember those last few exhausting and heartbreaking days spent by his side. I remember watching a machine count down his heart rate to zero, but already knowing he'd passed over. Whispering to him it was ok to go. Looking at my sister in law with eyes full of big fat tears and thinking 'is this actually real' and wanting to wake up from a bad dream. Walking out to my mum and brother and telling them he'd passed, whilst looking at my little baby in her car seat unaware of what had just gone one around her. A piece of me died inside that day and I'll never be that same person I was.


This time last year I remember it was a few days prior to Father's Day and I couldn't step foot inside of a shop to buy my partner cards from our children, because I knew I'd be omitting one for my own dad. It felt so cruel, so wrong. I did of course end up going in and getting him a card and let the kids pick a gift. He knew how I felt though and in typical Simon fashion never made a big deal out of it, he just knew how I was feeling and didn't expect too much. So along with his cards, I picked up a grave card for my dad instead and remember standing in the que thinking how the previous year I'd been blissfully unaware how our lives would change. You don't expect to lose one of your parents when you're young, it's not something you think you will be doing at 33.








We stayed with my mum last Father's Day, we went to dad's graveside, laid flowers, tidied it up and then left. We carried on our day as we know dad would've wanted – by going to the pub and having a meal. But, and it's a big but – every thing you do, you say it's there. I can't explain it even. Anyone who has lost an immediate family member like a parent will tell you what I mean. It sticks in your throat and chokes you.


So this Father's Day is my second without him. I'm going to stay here at home, make the day about Miller because he deserves it so much. He's been an absolute gem to me and the kids, as usual.


I've no doubt most a lot of people will not even think it'll be a hard day for me, because I've done it before. But actually, it's no easier. None of it's easier. Hand on my heart time doesn't heal – it's a patronising (to me) saying that people say when they think they're saying the right thing. Damn I've probably said it before to people myself. Maybe time is a healer when you've broken up with your first boyfriend, or something. But this is different. All time has done for me is made me realise I have to wake up every single day and get through that day with that feeling I've learnt to live with since just after 7am on the 10th February 2013.

 


 

 

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