Bye Bye Dad

8:30am Friday 29th March 2013
My mobile phone rang. I tried to answer the call but the signal was bad. I ran to the door tripping over the dogs. I tried frantically to redial the number but it was engaged. As I came back in the house, my brother had already answered the landline. It was the call we had been waiting for.
My Dad had died in his sleep at 1am.

He had been ill, was getting weak and we knew that he didn’t have much time but despite all the signs, somewhere deep down in me I hoped he wouldn’t go. I just wanted him to stay with us.

I didn’t cry straight away. A sense of relieve that I was sure that my Dad wasn’t in any pain, anymore. A few minutes later as I digested the news I couldn’t understand why it took seven and a half hours for his wife to call. I cried. I cried loudly. I was angry. Angry because she didn’t call ? Angry because my Dad had gone ? I don’t know but I was angry.

Since Friday I’ve been having mixed emotions. I’ll retreat into my room, listen to Kate Bush and try to make a sense of things. It’s difficult to describe. It’s not like loosing your grandparents. It feels like I have lost a part of me, part of my history.

The funeral isn’t until a week tomorrow. It is Easter weekend and there is a long delay for arrangements. This week is going to be, let’s say, weird.

I am not sure I have described exactly how I am feeling. The past couple of months haven’t been easy. It hasn’t been helped by certain people. I have a feeling of something that is incomplete. Something I never managed to say and I will never get that opportunity to talk to my Dad again.

Dad is second from the left
Dad is second from the left

My Dad was stubborn and pigheaded which is not always a negative trait. I remember when we were little and Dad would say in a shop I need a plug for this, and I’m not paying because if I don’t have a plug, it won’t work and if it doesn’t work you can’t sell me something that won’t work ! He never did pay for a plug. His stubbornness also helped the day I was late for a flight back to Paris. Dad drove down the M56 to Manchester Airport at 100mph. We never spoke. He just concentrated on getting me to the airport. I boarded the flight. We often laughed about that drive for years afterwards.

I argued a lot with my Dad, probably because we have a lot of the same character but I always seemed to call on Dad not for direct advice but a kind of a ‘Dad Approval’ to decisions I was making and that will be the hardest part of loosing my Dad.

Thanks Dad for teaching me so many things. I used to think you were annoying with your advice but I’m going to miss you.

Bye bye Dad

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