This is what Amber wrote for the blog, but I decided to also read out a slightly shorter version at John's cremation service as it was so beautiful.
I’m not really sure how to start this, Mum asked me to write something for the blog weeks ago, but I just haven’t been able to pick it up. Expressing myself through words has never come very easily to me - that’s Mum’s forte - but I’ll give it a go.
Today (as I’m writing this) it is Dad’s 56th birthday, and I found myself crying for the first time in months. I’d just parked up at home after a long day of hunting through the charity shops of Leamington for a very specific book (unsuccessfully), and took a moment to read everyone’s birthday messages to my Dad. The one sentiment that rings through all of them is that he was so genuine. And it’s true, Dad wore his heart on his sleeve always. Whether it was his family, friends, colleagues, or complete strangers, Dad was generous and full of love and care and understanding.
Looking back through the years, all of the events I ever went to, achievements, milestones, or helping with all my issues - from DIY to boy problems - my Dad was always there. He taught me to ride a bike when I was little, then bought me my moped when I turned 16 (much to Mum’s disapproval). He taught me to drive, supported me through university, helped me move into my first house, met his grandkids (my cats) and loved them as much as I do.
It’s really hard to picture whatever my next milestone will be, and not have him there cheering me on.
He won’t be on the other end of the phone when the heating breaks, we’ll not go for another walk or cycle up to a waterfall or down the glen. I won’t be able to tell him how excited I am if I get engaged, and if I get married I’ll be walking down the aisle by myself.
Last September me and Dad went up to Scotland together, just the two of us. I was between jobs and in a difficult situation in my then-relationship, and needed a week away to forget about everything. I planned to wild camp and Dad made me a hand drawn map before I set off. I veered off the trail (I blame poor signage) and ended up walking for about 7 hours that day with an enormous pack on before I could set up camp, absolutely exhausted. First thing in the morning, Dad came to pick me up as I hadn’t slept a wink, and I went straight to bed.
The rest of that week we spent going for little walks; up Puck’s Glen, to the beach, to Bute. Dad knew how much I love to swim so he took me to all the best places. We picked blackberries, watched the birds in the garden, and every night we’d sit out on the back patio to cook on the latest gizmo he’d bought. The sun would go down, but it was still warm, and the bats came out, along with other creatures like mice and even a toad!
Whatever happens next, I will wish my Dad were here to see it, but he won’t, and that’s just life. Some parts of it really, really suck; it’s just the worst. But we live in an amazing world and I am lucky enough to be surrounded by people who love and support me and want to see me thrive. Everything is going to be ok.
Isn’t it amazing that we are alive? Our hearts beat and lungs breathe without thinking, our skin is warm, our brains form new connections every day. Our bodies bruise and ache yes, but we are able to hold the hands of those we love. Those we can’t, we remember. I think that is a beautiful thing.
I love you Dad.
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