So it is one year to the day since my dad died. It’s been a hard year, in so many ways.
Partly (duh?) the grief. The heartrending missing of someone who was (is) so important to me. Oh the number of moments this year, especially early on, when I wanted to reach out and talk to him about:
- some detail of life (like my cat’s silly antics, or that the cherry blossoms were out already)
- some big news story (the triple crown winner, the Queen’s prof who got a Nobel Prize, the results of the national election all come to mind)
- something that we had shared before so many times (a phone call blow by blow conversation about the election)
- his advice on something (where to go when in Scotland, how to deal with stroppy tradesmen, what to do with conflicting work priorities)
And each one of those moments, leading to an outpouring of tears. Let’s face it, standing at his gravestone, asking, but not getting answers the way I can understand them … just doesn’t cut it.Read More >>>
