I will always
remember when I was about 14 and like my friends, I had a MySpace account.
There was a section titled ‘heroes’ and I wrote “my daddy – because he takes me
to football and gigs”. He would always mention it, because it made him smile...
Another
personal post tonight and strangely, I found it so easy to write – because although
it’s a subject that’s difficult to talk about, it’s one that I love to talk
about – even if it makes me feel contemplative, sad or even angry about afterwards.
Tomorrow marks a year to the day my dad died.
If
you’re a long-term follower of my blog or Twitter/Insta, you’ll know that my
family are hugely important to me and my dad was no different. I honestly don’t
think anyone really understood our relationship; one minute we could be like
the best of friends and the next, totally at each other’s throats. Good traits
and bad, I’m very much like him. I have his focus and grammar pedantry, as well
as his food/holiday snobbery. We shared a love of football and influenced each
other with our choice of music (film, not so much). He was also my blog’s
biggest fan.
This
past year has been nothing but milestones and on the whole, I think I’ve dealt
with them okay. It’s the downtime when I over-think, or small things like a
song, somebody on TV or even a photo or memory.
Father’s Day was only two days after the
funeral and I think even at that point it hadn’t sunk in. My auntie and uncle
were still over from Madrid and we went for a meal at The Viper, one of his
favourite pubs. His birthday was July 9th and again, we celebrated with a meal at another
of the pubs we frequented a fair bit: The Bell at Horndon-on-the-Hill. I was
expecting Christmas to be really
difficult, as we are a small family who have always had a traditional Christmas
at home. We spent a few days in Madrid and my auntie and uncle made the time so
special, it kept my mind off it. New
Year was one of the times I got overly emotional – and I really don’t know
why. Again, we’ve often spent the last evening of the year together, where we’d
have a takeaway and watch a film or play a game before the bongs. I think I was
okay most of the evening, it was the countdown that got me. And thankfully, my birthday wasn’t too bad to get
through, as I was thoroughly spoilt – but while there were four of us at my
birthday meal, it should have been five.
So
tomorrow... the final milestone. I booked the day off work because I really
didn’t fancy going in. The weather is supposed to be fine, so I will probably
spend the day at the Burial Ground and take some lunch with me. I’ve actually
not visited for a while, so I have so much to tell him. I’ll also have to get
some fresh flowers to put in the pot. I was planning/hoping on getting some
plants, but I’m not sure how the plot currently looks.
As
time goes by, it does get easier – but the reality recently hit me when I saw
the Rio Ferdinand documentary (if you didn’t watch it, I can highly recommend
it). Like him, I never really spoke about it much. There are things like going
to Barnet which aren’t the same, I don’t enjoy going on my own and the
occasions that I have, I have felt anxious. When I have a bad day, I miss his
humour. He never really met any of my friends, as they’re all in different
circles and locations – and I’ve made some friends since that I wish he could
have met. It makes me sad that he never met Ashley. And worst of all, even
though my brother and I are now grown up, he won’t watch us progress and ‘properly
adult’.
This post is now becoming a jumbled mess of words on a screen, so fairplay if you're still reading. And as I began my post with the introduction of my tribute, it's only fitting I end the same way.
...he
complained he wouldn’t be home to watch the FA Cup final with me. So I went to
visit and watched it on the tiny TV as I sat beside his bed. It cheered him up
no end – but little did I know that would be our final memory. As I left, he
kissed me on the cheek and said “I love you princess”. I love you too dad,
sleep tight and thank you for being my hero.
Love,
Lucy xx
Xxxxxxxxx
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