An Open Letter | Dear Dad
It's been two whole years since we said goodbye and it still hurts. I feel like I don't think about you as much as I should, but at the same time you're always in the back of my mind. Having a photo of you in my bedroom helps, it's like you're still here in a way.
A lot has happened in the last two years. I had a son, Dad. Typical really, we finally get another boy in the family and you weren't here to meet him. Although probably for the best really, I think that if the cancer hadn't killed you off, the experience I had probably would have done. Mum was convinced you were trying to take me away, to join you wherever you are. I know you wouldn't do that. If anything, you were probably egging me on to survive. You wouldn't have wanted your grandson to live without his Mummy.
His name is Charlie. Although you probably already know that, if you're able to watch over him. I hope you like his name, but I guess you probably would prefer 'Charles.' You posh git. It does make me really sad that you can't cuddle him, and convince him to be a Spurs fan. I'll try, but I can't promise anything! I feel like he knows sometimes. Some days he falls asleep holding onto the necklace you bought me. I'm eager to see if he ever talks about 'Pops', without any of us leading him into it. We will tell him about you though; he will know you.
Auntie Babs died a couple of weeks ago, I wonder if you've found each other yet? Everyone keeps saying how much she adored you. But then again, everyone did. Carol and Hazel are still torn apart about you, and talk about you regularly. So does Mum, she mentions you almost every day. Do you remember that rock weekend in Minehead you went to a couple of years ago? Mum's going back there soon, and she's going to scatter some of your ashes there, as you had such a great time. I'm pretty sure you've been more places now than you did when you were alive! There's a little part of you in Venice, Las Vegas, Mexico, where Natalie got married and possibly a few other places. I expect your sister takes you on all of her holidays with her. I'll probably take you back to Iceland with me, whenever I go.
I wish you were still here, Dad. Before the pain got so bad, before I watched you deteriorate. I miss hearing you make silly Dad jokes, and your posh phone voice. My favourite thing about you talking on the phone is the way you'd always end with 'bye-bye now.' I don't know why but that always made me laugh, and cringe a little.
I hate to say it but this is the first time in two years I've actually been able to remember something you've said. Every time I've tried to remember something, anything, I've always drawn a blank. It's like my brain is trying to make me forget you already, and all I remember is losing you. I don't want that to happen. I want to remember all the funny little stories we share, so I can tell them to Charlie. But I have nothing. I don't understand why. Although I'll always remember how you were there for me during my depression, and we had a year where it was just me and you having quality time together. I loved the little holiday to Eastbourne we had, and the day trip to Herne Bay. As much as I missed Mum during that time (she was working constantly) I'm really glad we had that time together and got closer. I had always been a Mummas girl until then, but you were my best friend during that difficult time for me, and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there for me, or been fit enough to take me out and distract me from my thoughts.
I love you so much Dad, thank you for everything you did for me.