Today, as most Dads will tell you, is Father’s Day and across Scotland, thousands of grateful offspring will be celebrating their beloved Dads. There will be dinners cooked and served, wine poured and toasts made while smiling (and sometimes embarrassed) pops feel the love and bask in the attention (yes, I'm dropping heavy hints here, Laura and Michaela...)
For some people, of course, Father’s Day is not a particularly happy occasion. Their fathers have either passed away, are absent through choice, having one way or the other managed to avoid their paternal responsibilities altogether, or are absent through no wish of their own, having seriously fallen out with their children to the point that contact is no longer made. For their children, the great question marks hang precariously mid-air and the pain of not knowing a father’s love throbs palpably.
As I've written before on these pages, I am among those who no longer has someone to treat on Father’s Day, having lost my Dad in 1997 when he passed away at the age of 58.
I remember my father as if we are both in a dream. I still have his diary from the year he died and look at it occasionally, usually on days like these. Of course I miss him terribly, 15 years on. He died very suddenly and I didn't get the chance to tell him so many things. What pains me more, however, is the fact he never got to see his grandchildren Laura and Michaela grow up into the fine adults they have become - he would have been so proud of them. And the fact he didn't live to see what are his adorable great-grandchildren. How my father would have doted on Jack, Hannah and Ava - and I'm pretty sure they would be running circles around their Great Papa just as they do me (and I have the bruises to prove it!)
To those who are fortunate to still have a father in their life - I hope you and your Dad enjoy every precious minute you have together.