It was eleven years today that my father died, very suddenly and without any warning. The death of a loved one is always difficult and when it is unexpected the shock can be quite traumatic. I don't think you ever get over such a loss but, in time, you learn how to cope.
My parents divorced when I was eight years old and I lived with my mother in Aberdeen for a few years. As my father remained in Cumbernauld, just outside Glasgow, we never developed the close bond often associated between father and son. But we grew closer when I married Pat in 1982. That was the year the above photo was taken.
When my daughters Laura and Michaela came along, that closeness intensified. When I left Aberdeen in 1990 to begin a new life down south, I lived with my father for three months and never a cross word was said between us.
My father married three times and had two other sons to his second wife. But when he was found dead at his home on 11 March 1997, he was living alone in a council flat in Paisley.
Never a day goes by that I don't think about him and all the things I wished I had said. The pace of life is so frantic these days that many of us don't feel we have the time to think about others. I wish I had that time now with my Dad. He was the only person who actively encouraged my writing and both books I have written have been dedicated to his memory. I often think how proud he would have been of my grandson Jack and grand-daughter Hannah; they're both the apple of my eye and would certainly have been the apple of his.
I'm not a particularly spiritual person but I like to think the old fella is up there looking down on us all. As I sip a wee dram tonight, I lift my glass to him - I will never see his likes again.
My parents divorced when I was eight years old and I lived with my mother in Aberdeen for a few years. As my father remained in Cumbernauld, just outside Glasgow, we never developed the close bond often associated between father and son. But we grew closer when I married Pat in 1982. That was the year the above photo was taken.
When my daughters Laura and Michaela came along, that closeness intensified. When I left Aberdeen in 1990 to begin a new life down south, I lived with my father for three months and never a cross word was said between us.
My father married three times and had two other sons to his second wife. But when he was found dead at his home on 11 March 1997, he was living alone in a council flat in Paisley.
Never a day goes by that I don't think about him and all the things I wished I had said. The pace of life is so frantic these days that many of us don't feel we have the time to think about others. I wish I had that time now with my Dad. He was the only person who actively encouraged my writing and both books I have written have been dedicated to his memory. I often think how proud he would have been of my grandson Jack and grand-daughter Hannah; they're both the apple of my eye and would certainly have been the apple of his.
I'm not a particularly spiritual person but I like to think the old fella is up there looking down on us all. As I sip a wee dram tonight, I lift my glass to him - I will never see his likes again.
2 comments:
That's really a lovely photo of the two of you.
Thank you 1st lady- although I'm not so sure about that tank top...
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