I was your angel dad...now you are mine 💖

 Dearest Dad

The house is empty without you...and Columbo.  Dug doesn't know where to go and find you.  The 'crisp' bag in the cupboard hasn't fallen off it's hook once...and the arm rest on the recliner looks bare without your wet hanky antimacassar.

Of all the tasks that I have been presented with since my dad's passing, finding the right words to conclude this blog is by far the most difficult.  I type...I read...I delete.  Start over again...and again...
and again.

In my previous post, I told you that dad had kept repeating the 24th to me the evening before he passed.  He said that he needed to get the money sorted and I told him I'd sort it and that he shouldn't worry.  It was nothing relevant at all.  It was just ramblings but I did my best to pacify him so that he would feel calm.
I flew off to Maidstone to be with my daughter Vicky and spend time wrapped around my grandkids for a couple of days.  Vicky drove me back home on Easter Monday so that I could get on with making the arrangements for dad's funeral.  At least this time I wasn't having to deal with it all on my own.  Arranging my mother's funeral was very different...and difficult.  Everything had to be done around my dad which meant all of the emotions were locked away inside.  My main focus, right or wrong, was him.
On the 23rd April, Vicky and I visited Costa coffee shop at Livingston Shopping Centre and sat where dad and I had many many times.  I told her I was going to buy a scratch card as I usually would with dad, telling him that each one was the "big one" and that we'd be jetting off to a life of luxury leaving everything behind us.  He loved the idea.  My exaggeration of how we'd spend the money would often make him laugh.
"Let's leave it til tomorrow," Vicky said.  "It's the 24th.  Maybe granda was trying to tell you something!"
So we did.  We waited.  On the 24th we went back to Livingston Centre and I bought two scratch cards.  While we were having our tea and coffee in Costa I scratched the first card.  Four matches in a row...I revealed the winnings...£3.  I began scratching the second card.  Another four matches in a row.  I revealed the winnings.  My heart raced and my mouth fell open.  There it was right in front of me...the revealed winnings...THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS!!
"Vicky," I began, stone faced and trembling.  Vicky stared at me.  I went over the card again to make doubly sure of what I was seeing.
"Awferfucksake!"
I'd only gone and scratched off a mismatched symbol.  One that looked similar to the one I thought was correct...but it wasn't.  For one glorious second I seriously thought that dad had been giving me a sign that I was coming into a healthy amount of money.
I looked at Vicky.  "What an absolute arse I am!" is about all I could say.  It only took a second more before we howled with laughter.
"This is granda's sense of humour," said Vicky.  "Maybe this is what he meant by the 24th all along."

Was it YOU dad?
...........................

The past 9 months will be etched in my memory forever.  As difficult as it was at times, each and every moment was precious.  The emptiness in my heart is indescribable.  I have shed so many tears and will continue to do so, but I know that I will carry on laughing too.  The memories of our daily life will never leave me.  The conversations (such as they were) will stay in my heart and keep me smiling.  I will never get over the fact that I wasn't with him in the end to hold his hand.  There are no words capable of comforting me on that one.  Not now.  Not ever.  But I cannot dwell.  My dad always thought the sun shone from my arse.  I will make sure it shines from every orifice in his honour.

You looked so peaceful Dad, laying sleeping wearing your Christmas jumper and dark blue chord trousers with socks to match and a sleeved vest under your jumper to keep you warm.  The undertaker stifled a giggle when he saw your Christmas hat.  I told him not to put it on your head...although it was tempting.  Remember when you came into the living room one cold morning and I sent you off to fetch your housecoat?  You were taking a long time about it and as I came to check on you, there you stood wearing the housecoat ....and the hat!  Our Christmas Day was THE best day we spent together.  I know you loved it too.  Just you and me with our feet up on the recliner watching...Columbo!

Holding onto his Christmas hat under one hand, I placed a photo of him and me in the other with a personal message written on the back.  I placed two packets of Walkers crisps by his side along with the first series of his precious Columbo.  By his head I placed a collage of photos that were memorable...him posing in his wheelchair in front of Blackpool Tower being one.  Vicky wrote a personal note and tucked it under his hand which lay over his Christmas hat.  My dad loved the cartoon Tom and Jerry.  When Vicky visited with the kids, that was the cartoon of choice for everyone to watch.  My dad would still be glued to the screen long after the kids got bored.  Vicky has fond memories of watching Tom and Jerry with him when she was a little girl, so she bought key rings of both characters.  She placed Tom key ring over his finger and has kept Jerry key ring for herself.

Dad's funeral is over.  I can still hardly believe those words as I write them.  It's time for me to plan my future once again.  I need to find a job and take better care of myself...which I have already started.  I am taking a month (at least) to come to terms with the past 9 months before I can consider starting a new job.  Losing my mother, Paul and my dad is about all I can deal with right now.
But life goes on.  It will be different.  But it will go on.

I love you so much dad.
I miss you every day.
Until we meet again...sleep well.

"Night night dad."

The final full stop.