This week marks 33 years since you passed away. They say time brings acceptance, but as each year that passes it makes me feel sad that I can’t really remember what you looked like, or how it felt to be cuddled by you, what you sounded like. I feel cross that I only have a couple of pictures of you. That all my childhood pictures mysteriously disappeared.
When Evie was alive, she kept you alive for me. Sat on her sofa telling me stories of me being your shadow, screaming the house down when I wasn’t with you. I miss my big sister, I miss you. All through my life feeling as if something was missing. It was you.
Of course back then, they was no councilling, your name was never mentioned unless I was in Evie’s company. When mum remarried, people in the village were patronising saying “you’re getting a new dad” ermm no my dad is dead was my reply but they just didn’t listen.
Since you’ve gone, I hated Christmas even as a child. I miss you, it reminds me of you dying. Standing there in the side room of the hospital, being told to say our goodbyes. Kissing your waxy skin telling you I loved you. Acting older than my 10 years.
I hope you look down and are proud. I’ve tried my best, sometimes too trying. I love you Dad. Wish heaven had a phone sometimes.