Dad, I find great comfort in knowing that you are listening even when no words are spoken. Life has been a bit of a mess of late, but it’s all good.
Thank you for enlightening me with your words and believing in me. I appreciate the snippets of you that I find all around me when I need it most.
I’m so thankful that you understand my heart and the challenges that that comes with. Your words continue to guide me in moments where I fear I may give it all away. That unyielding empathy and compassion that often leads to no thought for self, and remembering that my actions, even if good, can negatively impact on those nearest and dearest to me. And yes, there’s been times where I’ve completely disregarded your guidance. I mean some lessons are best learnt through my own actions, and it’s also okay to test your guidance by doing things a bit differently.
I continue to marvel at our lives and how infinitely blessed we are thanks to you. Your life has ensured a wonderful legacy for us to build on and for mom to survive and thrive on. We’ve experienced more good than bad.
I’ve met some phenomenal people along this journey of loss, and in the strangest of ways you’ve drawn me closer to living my life without regret. Most interesting has been the path you’ve shown me, leading me to the one place where I can find you when I struggle to reach you. Thank you for that, smart move on your part I might add!
As you know, some of the things aren’t meant for this space. I appreciate that you hold no judgement and continue to keep it real with me. Giving no fucks is sometimes the only way to continue being true to myself even when my choices are so far removed from the ordinary, and the expected, yet it always makes perfect sense to me.
Thank you for always accepting me as I am. I do miss you. The one person I could depend on to listen to me as I wade through my own thoughts and reasoning about life. Someone who didn’t feel the need the need to have all the answers. You understood that not all questions have answers, but rather, requires an inquisitive mind who recognizes that some questions need no answers other than embracing the lived experience for what it is.
My father was diagnosed, unexpectedly, with stage 4 pancreatic cancer on 16th May 2017. He died 12 days later, there was no battle, only dignified acceptance.
12 Days Later . . . Pancreatic Cancer
Finding My Voice, A Father’s Love
Yellow the Colour of His Death
Dad, I’ve Sought Your Guidance
The Courage and Sadness in Your Eyes
