Today is my Dad’s birthday. The first one without him. He would have been 74 years of age. Each year my Dad liked to treat our extended family to a meal out to celebrate.
Happy Birthday Dad. I hope you’ve found a nice Chinese buffet restaurant in heaven. We miss you.
This is my Dad at my wedding in 2009.
Everyone liked my Dad. He was a friendly guy and got on with everyone. He had a great sense of humour and known for being cheerful. My Dad liked a good action movie, but as we were growing up in the 1980/90s we always watched The Golden Girls, The Cosby Show and Roseanne on tv together as a family, which were my favourite tv shows back then. My Dad then developed a liking for The Simpsons and, as I quite often manage to relate daily life to a scene from an episode of Friends, my Dad would somehow do that with The Simpsons.
When my Dad was diagnosed with his illness and weakened by his chemotherapy, my brother bought him a big, fat old fashioned joke book to cheer him up. Oh how we dreaded my Dad reading us joke after awful joke – I guess the oldies are the goodies! And it was lovely to see my Dad with his specks at the end of his nose chuckling in the corner whilst amusing himself with this giant joke book. Surely, at his age, he should have been reading a broadsheet newspaper, but a joke book suited him much more.
My Dad was in good spirits throughout his two years of treatment and liked to talk with the nurses and volunteers at the cancer unit. He was just a friendly, positive guy. He definitely passed his good humour traits to both me and my brother and I thought I’d make this post lighthearted and share some recent anecdotes that have helped us get through this awful time:
My Dad received the news that he only had weeks to live on my mum’s 70th birthday in early December. He then went into the hospice on my birthday in January. We joke that he always had to steal the limelight!
Whilst arranging for the flowers for his funeral I requested a ‘DAD’ floral display. The florist quoted a per letter cost, to which I jokingly asked my Mum, “Shall we call him Pa?” For the record, my Mum found it funny!
We were discussing costs with the funeral director, who made a statement about waiting for confirmation of a quote saying, “if he comes back…” to which I interjected, “who, my Dad?” That was also taken lightly and the funeral director asked if my Dad would have liked that kind of humour. We were certain that he would.
So, I think my Dad would like it that we’re continuing with good humour in his name. For now perhaps only my Mum, brother, husband or I could make light of recent events, as no-one else would dare(!), but I guess this is a way of getting through the pain.
Between my Dad’s death and his funeral I read a booklet on bereavement. I wanted to understand the emotions I would be experiencing. People had told me that I would be shocked, obviously upset, and angry. These are just some of the emotions I have felt. 14 weeks on and I’m still feeling a combination of all of those, plus more. It’s not like I’ve got over one emotion and moved onto the next. My head hurts. I’m tired.
Some people were surprised at how quickly I went back to work, and others said it was probably for the best, that I could get back to “normality”. I’m sorry, for me normality is to have a Dad. Anyway. What was particularly difficult was that my Dad had also worked at my place of work. In fact, for over 40 years, until his retirement in 2009; and it seemed that everyone knew him, to the extent that a message was sent to everyone to inform them of the funeral details. I was very proud, but very sad that I couldn’t share that with my Dad, as we often spoke about work, even till his last days, as he had such fond memories of the place. Again, at his funeral, I wanted to share with him the number of ex and current employees who were in attendance (but I’m pretty sure he was there looking down and knew!). I know it’s pretty boring talking about work so the point I’m making is that it has been particularly difficult for me to get back to work with all the reminders of Dad. From walking past his old office every day; to the fact that my Dad played a central role at the organisation and I often think of how he would have done things; and small things like how he used to come home from work laden with two orange carrier bags (a well-known UK supermarket brand) of shopping goodies, and I have now taken on that role. ‘My father’s daughter’ and all that.
I could go on about how he was a great Dad (he was), and how he was a great role model (he was), and how he cared for, and did so much, for his family and others (he did), but really what I’m trying to say is that all of our relationships with our loved ones are different. My Mum’s and brother’s relationships with my Dad were different to mine, and other daughter-dad relationships are unique. So with all the emotions I’m feeling, despite books being written and others sharing experiences of grief, I still feel quite alone. I speak to my husband and friends about my Dad and how I feel, and they’ve been great, but there’s a part of me that feels that people don’t really understand how I feel. Maybe that will change as time passes. I know of many people who have lost a parent; I should say I’m in my mid-thirties, so feel too young and sorry for myself that this has happened, but I know I’m lucky to have had my Dad for all those years, when others have lost theirs much earlier.
I would like to thank those who have supported me and understand what I’m going through. I would also like to mention those who have lost someone, and say that I still don’t understand 100% how you feel, especially as time has passed, but I have an understanding of your situation and am so sorry you’ve suffered like me. I wouldn’t wish these feelings of grief on anyone.
A special mention to: Angela, Betsy, Carolyn & co, Claudette, Diksha, Helen Y & co, Jane, Jim, Kara, Laura, Lorna, Pauline & co, Rachel, Rehana, Sarah-Louise.
My Dad died on 21 January after a 2 year and 2 day battle with cancer. Yes I am being specific. He died 3.5 months ago, that’s 14 weeks today. Yes, I am still counting in weeks. After all, it has only been weeks and I still expect to see my Dad; surely he’s just gone away on holiday or something. But I know he’s not coming back as I’ve been to visit him at the cemetery every Sunday, after church, since his funeral. And he’s definitely there. There’s not really a point to this blog post, just that it’s literally been weeks and it seems the whole world has continued to turn. Everyone else’s lives have carried on and I’m still stuck in this moment. All I can say is, I really miss my Dad.
So, I lost my Dad. No, I haven’t forgotten where I put him, he died, in January. So, I’m going to write a blog. For those of you who know me, put me in a group of people and I’m the quiet one. I don’t talk much and I like to listen. So why am I writing a blog? Well, in a one to one situation, I can talk and I don’t want to bore those precious friends and family members, who listen, with my thoughts. Right now, my Dad and his passing is mostly what I think about. I can be fine and continuing with daily life, but something will trigger in my mind and I will be upset. So this blog is to document my thoughts. I don’t mind if you read it, or if you don’t. One thing, throughout this life event one of my best friends said that I’ve not lost my sense of humour, so I hope it makes an appearance and entertains you.
shereeaitken 