In April of this year my dad sadly passed away and left a hole in the lives of the family and friends that he left behind.
I am therefore dedicating this post to those fathers that are no longer with us and those loved ones that continue to deal with their loss.
The card that I have placed at the end of this post is fairly self evident as to the construction method so, if it’s Ok with you, I’d like to give you a short passage or two about Maurice, my dad, and I.
Maurice was born in the mid nineteen-thirties and spent most of his early years in and around North Yorkshire. A beautiful place that was surely one of the reasons behind his love of gardening.
To describe him I would probably use the word – traditional. It’s a word that could apply to many aspects of life but I think that it sums him up well.
He met my mum through his work as a driving instructor. They courted for some time (yes, courted – I told you he was traditional), and eventually married. A union that would last for over fourty years.
After they married it wasn’t long before they began building a family. By the time I arrived on the scene the world was a very different place from the one that my dad had grown up in but he maintained that traditional sense of being.
I can’t profess to having the most stable relationship with my dad over the years. There were good times; the childhood trips to Yorkshire (which I loved), the Father/Son cub scout camp, the support that he gave me in getting through further education and the time he took to listen to my problems (mostly random whining).
Then there were the ‘other’ times, but then I guess that when a traditional man comes up against a head-strong/fiercely independent/creative ‘yoof’ growing up in a very different era then there were bound to be sparks at some point, right?
Regardless of whether it was good or ‘other’ he would always be there.
It has been hard to watch this traditional, stable and strong figure gradually deteriorate over the last few years. We’ve joked about the volume of pills that he had to take, the mobility scooter drag-racing and the possibility of a frequent-flyer card for his visits to the hospital. I think that it was a shared way of masking the sadness behind the inevitable end.
In April of this year all of his health issues overwhelmed his weakened body and he finally found peace. I am glad that he is not suffering anymore, but I am also sad that he won’t be around anymore.
Today my thoughts are with my dad, and those fathers who are no longer among us.