Father’s Day. My obituary.

I mentioned in my previous blog that I think about my dad’s passing a bit too much.  It’s a strange feeling, but with Father’s Day around the corner, and yes I know it’s a load of old commercial tat, I always think about him. As you would.  So, as I’m not buying him a card, and I’m not taking him flowers to his tiny plot (he didn’t ever wear them), I’ll write him a blog.

This is what I wrote the night he died, to read at his funeral. It’s not long, but it said everything.

I have never forgotten one day at school my old biology teacher saying that when we cry when someone dies, it is for selfish reasons. It wasn’t long after my nan had died, and I wasn’t impressed, as some others weren’t, but of course, as I’ve got older, I’ve come to realise this is true. Not that it stops me crying.

But my dad wasn’t selfish. I’m sure my mother might disagree but only where band practise was concerned! But with regards everything else, selfish was the last thing he was. He worked hard and provided for his family.

I’ve always joked that if ever I meet the right woman, the wedding will cost so little, as both my parents were single children, no aunts, no uncles or cousins, and sadly losing all my grandparents, my family invitations might just run into double figures.

It’s this that perhaps made our family so strong.

I was recently talking to someone about my childhood, and how wonderful it was. It really was. I struggle to think of bad moments, as there really weren’t that many. It wasn’t a childhood of materialistic extravagance, and by no means perfect, but it was as close as you will get.

My sisters, my daughter, nephew and I went away in October on holiday. It was said by several people, both while away, and back home, that it was surprising that siblings get on so well that they go away together.  This gave me a sense of pride, but the thanks for the fact that we did must go to my parents.

They have brought us up in a way that should make them so very proud.

With all the sadness in the world at the moment, it is sobering to know that people like my parents exist, and this is why I’d like everyone to remember my dad with a smile.

He was a good and decent man, a good father, a loving grandfather, a loyal son, and a good friend, and I am proud to be his son.

He offered to take me away when I was 18. He was made redundant, and took a sabbatical. He said he would take me to Hong Kong and Singapore to visit places he stayed at when he was in the RAF.  I have no idea why, but I didn’t go with him.

I regretted this for years, but always wanted to take him myself when I was about the age I am now.  Sadly I never got the chance.

I’m not a religious man, but hope and pray that I will one day get the chance to do so.

I hope he will wait for me.

Losing your parents is a bastard. Have a Happy Father’s Day to those of you that still have them.  Go give them a hug.

Miss you mate.

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