The remembering

Today I am missing my dad TERRIBLY. The grief hits me at the weirdest times. Today it was in two waves, the first when I found an old photo of him, the second when I imagined him walking around the garden here at Coneysthorpe. He would have loved the garden far more than I ever could. I heard the conversation we would have had together. He would have not been able to help himself. He would have got into his old clothes and got to work. He was a man of the soil.

I was struck today how modest a man he was. He lived simply and modestly. He never boasted, was always hugging or laughing or giving. He couldn't stop giving. And I am ashamed that I didn't appreciate him more and recognise what a man of stature he was - a giant in every way.

Every time I arrived home from whatever part of the world I was working in, his first words were invariably "Eee lass, I have missed you."

Wherever you are tonight Dad, I do miss you. It tears me apart.