One year today

It’s a year today since my dad died and I still can’t quite believe it.

The weird thing I’ve found since he died is that I mainly think of him  as he was in this photo, which was taken a long time ago. By the time he died, he’d been ill for at least five years and didn’t really seem like himself at all (he had Parkinson’s).

(It’s the opposite of my memories of my mum. Mum had MS and then leukaemia and I find my memories of her are more when she was ill than before – maybe because I was much younger when she became ill.)

My dad was very funny. When we went on holiday he’d befriend everyone immediately and we’d go in the bar and it would be like Cheers: “Harry!” Everyone loved him. He could be awful, obviously (can’t everyone) and we were never really close like some of my friends are with their dads – I could never describe myself as a “Daddy’s girl” – but the majority of my memories of him now are good.

I don’t want to be one of those people who, as soon as someone dies, thinks they never did anything wrong and pisses everyone off my talking about what a saint they were – I know my friends will have heard me complaining about my dad a lot over the years – but now that he’s gone, I find that stuff just doesn’t seem that important to me anymore. And then I find myself wondering why I couldn’t have let go of it, forgotten about it, forgiven him for it when he was alive. But I suppose it just doesn’t work that way. Not for me, anyway. And not really for my family – we never really talked about anything like that and I certainly never talked about any emotional stuff with my dad.

Anyway. I miss him. More than I thought I would (I know that sounds awful, but it’s true).

When I told Harry today was the anniversary of ‘Grandad Nincompoop’s’ death, he said, “We should have a sad celebration.” So today I’m going to introduce the boys to Dad’s fave – country music. I think I’ll start with some Dolly…


25 thoughts on “One year today

  1. I love that he was called Grandad Nincompoop 🙂 And I love your mum’s and dad’s expressions in this photo — she looks so happy, and he looks so mischievous. It’s nice you can remember him this way, but I’m sorry he got so ill and that he (and your mum, obviously) isn’t still around. Definitely time for a sad celebration. xx

    1. Thank you. Yes, that’s a very “Dad” face in that photo.

      (Did you listen to Eve Pollard’s Desert Island Discs? She’s ‘Grandma Bonkers’ to Claudia’s kids. 🙂 )

  2. What a beautiful post. I’m so sad for you, but glad that you have happy memories. And that you can share your Dad’s country music with the boys. Sounds very fitting. Big hugs xxxx

  3. I love the photo, Keris, and that you have lots of good memories. I’m really sorry that you have lost your mum and your dad and I’m thinking of you. Harry’s spot on about a ‘sad celebration’. Perhaps some Mr. J. Cash to go with Dolly? xx

    1. Thank you. It is, isn’t it. Much better than his description of Dad’s “wake” which was something like “that pub we went to to celebrate Grandad being dead.” :S

  4. Sending hugs and thinking of you. I think you have eloquently put into writing what happens to a lot of people. The important thing to remember – your parents loved you, you loved them and you have happy memories. Nothing else matters, really. 🙂 x

  5. The mind is an interesting entity of its own. The more you think of him, like in this photo, the more ingrained the memory will become.

    You are right, now that he is gone, the bad stuff is not as important — it can’t be changed. But it does give you the opportunity to be a better parent because you lived through them.

    Harry is so wise beyond his years. He always has a way of making me tear up. Enjoy Dolly.

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