Fathers Day

I knew I wanted to write something today, I didn't know what I'd be writing or how I'd feel but today is a very big day and will be for the rest of my life. It's been 3.5 months since my Dad died and today is the first Father's Day without him. 

I remember last year, I was back home and we spent it together as usual. The question of 'is this the last one?' crossed my mind, but I quickly shook it out as I never truly believed that day would come, especially less than a year later. 

The lead up to this day has been a month full of e-mail reminders from companies that I wouldn't buy from for my Dad anyway. My Dad didn't need shower gels, he didn't need Dior Sauvage (despite the e-mails from Dior suggesting that he did). I would've been in Asda or M&S filling up a basket with his favourite nuts and snacks. I would've been picking up a few fancy jars of jam, flavours I wouldn't dream of buying myself. I would've bought him a selection of chutneys, I might've even bought him a selection of cheeses. I would've been in M&S with my mum selecting a new checkered shirt for his never-ending collection or I would've been choosing a new cable knit jumper to be placed on top of one he already had. Now, I queue up in Sainsbury's to buy my weekly food shop and I'm stood in the queue, conveniently next to the extremely loud stand marketing all things Father's Day. The card I'm not buying this year is sitting there, I'm not taking it home. The words are perfect, I would've added my own message in there too, telling him how strong he is, how brave he is and how he's the best Dad in the whole world and I love him beyond words that exist in this card, or ones I can write myself. I woke up this morning with no plans, no running downstairs with his card and present to find him in the kitchen making his morning coffee. No 'Good morning darling!' accompanied with an extremely grateful 'wow, thank you! this is excellent!'. I woke up this morning, I looked out of the window to see if I could see my Dad in the form of a feather, a beam of light or how I usually see him, a robin. I'm getting myself dressed and ready to go to the cemetery this year.

There hasn't been a day where I haven't sobbed missing my Dad, I don't need a special day to think of him, he never leaves my mind. 

Happy Father's Day Dad, you were the best, you still are the best and you always will be. I love you and miss you like you wouldn't believe. ❤️

Three Months On

Today marks three months since I lost my Dad. So much is going on in the world and I very much appreciate having this space on the internet to document and share how everything is. I wasn't going to post an update today given everything that's currently being highlighted in the world, but after reflecting on old blog content last night, I decided it's important for me and my own journey to still document this today.

I wouldn't even know where the month began anymore, lockdown just feels like one large period of time, so identifying when there have been changes in my grief can be difficult to pinpoint. I go through patches of intense grieving and patches of almost needing to avoid my emotions just to get through a few days peacefully. Like I mentioned in a previous post, I've been discovering some new skills like baking and there have been countless occasions where I wish I could just show my Dad what I've been doing. It breaks my heart when I have something I want to talk to him about and I can't. 

I have had many days where I feel extremely depressed about everything and I still do, but I actually wanted to share something positive. I feel that it's my duty to make my Dad proud. I know the kind of things that would actually make my Dad proud and I feel like I'm starting to believe in myself that little bit more to be able to achieve that. I kind of boxed myself off in a category of mediocrity without even realising it and that's not what I have ever envisioned for myself since I can remember. My Dad always encouraged me to do anything I wanted to do and be anything I wanted to be and I should honour both him and myself by making that happen. My Dad's response to me sharing a dream or an ambition with him was always 'So what do you need to do to get there?' or 'So how are you going to do it?' accompanied by 'I will do everything I can and provide whatever you need to make that happen'. I miss him, I miss these conversations so much. I know that's what he's saying to me right now and that's why I'm starting to try to figure it all out. 

I'll do this Dad and I'll make you proud. I promised you that you didn't need to worry about me, (even if I wasn't sure how true that actually was). It's been three months and I miss you all day, every day, every night and I love you, I always will.