My Dad died six months ago. I've spent the last week being worked up over whether to count it as last Sunday, this Sunday or today - Saturday, by the date. Which is all very me - I like to get things 'right'. But actually it doesn't matter, does it?
My Dad died and I am sad. I am not less sad than I was, it's a different sadness now. I miss him. I'm sad that my Mum is so lonely. I'm sad that our boys cry for him when they are over tired in their beds. I miss being able to call him when I want to chat about my work or my family or what's happening in the world. I am busting to talk with him about Donald Trump! He was the definition of working class and so proud of all he achieved - what would he make of him?? I don't know. He had dementia so I wasn't able to talk about it with him before he died.
I miss my Dad so much. I know he wants me to live my best life. I want to work out what that is. What it looks like. How it feels. And what I can do to move towards it.
But for today, I'm here and I'm looking at my videos of my Dad - the last one where he knew me. Where he said how nice it was to see my brother. I'm so grateful for it. I just miss him so much. We'll carry on, and make the best of it because we haven't died and there's so much to do together. It's just that I'm doing it with a sad heart.
I love you Daddy. That's all there is to it. x