Things which have stopped me in my tracks:
Monday 16th April, 12.07. Noon
Working in Canva. Setting up images for Hope House Press. Photos of my Dad that I used for his funeral service programme. I cannot believe that he’s actually died. These photos are all we have. He’s not coming back. There will be no more photos. There will be no more meals together. No more football. No more phone calls. It’s too much to remember it. It’s too hard.
There have been so many more between 23rd February and 16th April, that I didn’t have time to document.
Friday 23 February. 9.30am
Pulling out of the drive. A flashback to the moment when we the hearse and the cars pulled away into the road, followed by the Jaguar. The funeral man, walking ahead of the hearse, so we could get our cars lined up, together. How he bowed before Dad’s coffin. I had no idea that this kind of thing happened. But the whole thing did.
Friday 23 February. 12.45pm.
Finding my handwritten notes in my handbag. Notes for my speech about my Dad.
Thank you Daddy for the laughter, bringing me closer to my brother, thank you for helping me to not be afraid of death, where has Dad gone. What is he doing. Committee complaints. Talking to Dad. Thank you for believing in me = shed. Dad and a door. New adventures. Someone who has my back for the boys. What would my Dad want for me? Keep going. Keep trying. Give of myself to our boys. Chin up. Be proud. Be kinder. Thanks for being with us.
Tuesday 6 March. 6.20pm
My mobile going and it being my Husband’s Nanna. I couldn’t think about the call I was on. I was thinking “Why is my Dad not calling me any more?”. I’d forgotten that he’d died.