Friday, October 6

Happy Dead Day Dad

It’s been fourteen long years since we said goodbye to you dad. 

Which works out to be roughly 122724 hours. 

I can still offer no explanation as to why I must always work out the hours, nor why I insist on referring to it as your dead day. I guess the shock value of the second is a possibility, but really I think it’s just because Dad’s Dead Day just has a certain ring to it. 

I’ve pretty much spent the entire week thinking about this day. Mainly because it is the first day of my 2 week holiday, but also because I hate the reminder that this is the day that we finally had to say goodbye.

There is still so much of it I remember as if it were only yesterday. 

There was a lot happening in the days leading up to today all those years ago. 

We had not long returned from a short little getaway to Mataranka. It was our last as family of four. I was at the start of my second trimester with Teapot. One of the many things I am truly thankful is that we had shared the news of my pregnancy with you not long after we ourselves knew. Even now I still wonder whether you had held off for our return.

I remember driving to the hospital on the first night you were admitted. It as a ‘Super Moon’. I had never seen such a big silver shining ball like that before. There was something unnervingly eerie about it. I was certain it was going to be the last time I saw you.

When I arrived though, you gave me so much hope. You didn’t look nearly as sick as you had on other admissions. Swine Flu was running rife through the world at this point in time so I was cautious as to how long I was there, given the precious cargo I was carrying and all. I didn’t stay as long as what I normally would have. Because you just seemed so fine.

It would still be another couple of days before you left. Each visit still didn’t seem like you really needed to be there. Until that last day.

I arrived to visit with the morning paper not long after school drop off was completed. I was a little later than normal, but not terribly so. I remember you being a little upset with me but nothing too terrible.

We sat and chatted for a bit and you drifted off for a bit of a nap. Then before I knew it the nurses were telling me to gather family.I dutifully did as I was told and bit by bit the family started to arrive, none of us really sure what to expect next.

The next few hours become a bit of a blur.

We sit around your bed, you drifting in and out. The nurses carefully providing us privacy for what was to come. Lovely was still in school and Zany was only a few years old. The kind nurses took her off for a while, they could tell the end was nigh.

One of my favourite photos of Dad with baby Zany

So much has happened since you left, I don’t think I would even know where to start to tell you all about it all.

I know though you’d be so proud of us all. The girls are all kind and considerate, with quirky senses of humours that would maybe sometimes make you wonder but always leave you smiling. I do so wish you could meet them now. In fact I think that is what breaks my heart most about you not being here, the fact that you don’t get to know them and more importantly they don’t get the chance to know you.

I like you a bit.