It’s father’s day today, and in another universe it also would have been my dad’s 89th birthday. Happy birthday Dad.
There’s been lots and lots about Mum in here (with much more to come, no doubt), but not so much about my lovely father. I miss him. Obviously. He died at the end of 2017, but in the years before that had had an aggressive form of dementia which took him from being an absent-minded version of himself in 2012 to someone completely physically and mentally dependent on other people five years later. And as much as we loved that different version of him and were devastated when he died, it’s the real Dad - the pre-2012 Dad - who I can think about now and miss very very intensely, when I let myself.
The thing about Dad was, he was clever, and kind, and a planner. Any element of organisational skill and tidy-minded thinking that I have inherited is definitely from him. At the same time I think I have a bit of Mum’s creativity (and occasional bit of chaos in the face of reality when it all gets too much). The Dad I miss today is the one who’d send me information about setting up a pension in my twenties (*cough*, I’m still not quite up to speed pension-wise, sorry Dad…). Who grew a billion different types of vegetables (I’m trying to do a bit of that) and flowers (not so good there) each year. Who, professionally (he was a physicist), seems to have been at the top of his game up until he took early retirement and obviously I had absolutely no idea about any of that until his funeral and suddenly heard all of these stories from former colleagues.
He loved cats, he was very gentle, he had a wry sense of humour which you only got to see occasionally. He was the first person in his family not to leave school at 16 and, in order to go to university, he had to take a French O’level when he was 18 which he studied for by going to a local girls’ school and sitting alongside a class of much younger girls. He bought Mum her first e-reader, before they were even really a thing (years before Kindles existed). He liked a glass of wine but he never got drunk. He went on long walks. He loved jazz and going to Ronnie Scotts. I so so wish I could talk to him about my life now, though I’m grateful he doesn’t have to see what a shitshow the outside world is. He’d have been disapproving about me using the word ‘shitshow’.
What would I tell real Dad about my last month and, in fact, all the recent years before that? I’m not sure he’d understand a lot of it though he’d be interested, and hopefully proud. Let’s try.
Hi Dad! It’s been so long. I miss you calling me out of the blue for a chat. I think about you every morning - after I do yoga I do a little prayer/sending out good thoughts to everyone important in my life, and you and Mum are always the final two people I think about.
Yeah I bet you’re surprised about the yoga, huh? Well, Dad, you would be astonished at the kind of physical activities all your children take part in these days. Later today I’m off to an aerial hoop class which is I think going to be so far out of your experience that it’s almost impossible to describe, but imagine a form of exercise which involves some circus skills, and in this case uses a large steel hoop suspended from the ceiling which you hang from, fling yourself about in and generally use your whole body with (and, in my case, get quite lot of bruises from). I know, it’s very much not the kind of thing I used to be into. Honestly, I am as surprised as anyone.
Yoga’s a huge part of my life too. Last month I went away on a yoga retreat. No, not with Gareth, he’s not really into yoga. I’ve been doing it regularly since just after you died though, when I changed my work pattern (I’ll tell you about that in a minute). This was actually the first time I’d ever been away on holiday on my own (not including going away to stay with friends). I’m trying to do new things this year, Dad, and that was one of them. It was a bit of a cheat though because I’ve done retreats with friends before so it wasn’t totally out of my comfort zone. The people were delightful and the food was amazing. I think you’d have loved it! OK maybe not the yoga - we did two classes a day, a more strenuous one in the morning and a calming one in the evening (that said, there was a chap there in his 60s).
But what you would have thoroughly enjoyed, Dad, was that we were in the Lake District and it was absolutely stunning. You could take an incredible walk from the moment you stepped outside our B&B - and I know you’d have enjoyed that. I do wish you’d been there for those walks, actually, it would have been so nice to be out with you, admiring the views and having those kinds of chats which happen best when two people are out strolling together. You know that me and Robbie meet up once a month or so and go on long walks around the very edges of London, these days? You’d love that, too.
Another fun (for me) and surprising outcome of that yoga retreat is that I learned (sort of) how to do a headstand. I sense that I’m losing you a bit now, Dad, but bear with me - it’s something I couldn’t even do as a child, but turns out that I’m a bit fitter now that I’m well into middle age. Anyway, I’ve been practising every couple of days and I’m getting better. Yes I suppose it kind of is pointless, isn’t it? Pointless and fun, though. OK OK I won’t try to persuade you to give it a go.
Oh right yes, the work thing. So, around the time you had to go into the care home, and Mum was in hospital, I realised that I needed to change things with my work-life balance so I could be there for you both more (especially Mum, after you’d gone). So I went self-employed. I KNOW, you’d have hated that for yourself, but you know how much Mum loved the freedom it gave her? It’s been the same for me too. Gosh, trying to explain what I do would be pages and pages, but let’s just say it’s been the best professional thing I ever did, and that I really love my job, which in very simple terms is helping charities and good companies articulate what they do and interact successfully with the people they rely on as well as the ones they’re there to help.
Right now I’m doing two contracts for the same client which is keeping me extra busy all the way through until November - and I have to work four whole days a week! Four days, Dad! (Yes it is a bit my-diamond-shoes-are-too-tight to be slightly put out that my fun non-work life is being curtailed due to two amazing contracts which pay well while I still don’t have to actually work full time. Fair point, Dad.)
Ooh one last thing for today, Dad, which is that I’ve been to a couple of gigs in the last week. Not sure that either of them would have been quite your bag, but I know how much you loved live music. One was Sophie Ellis-Bextor at the Royal Albert Hall (yeah, probably not quite in your musical orbit). She was excellent, though. The other - and again, bear with me on this one Dad - was ABBA. Yes, sort of them, but also not them - they’re holograms of their 1970s selves, alongside a live band, and truthfully Dad it was one of the best gigs I have been to in years. You would not believe how they just looked like.. like real people. There on stage. I know ABBA’s not really your kind of music either but wow, Dad, if you were alive and yourself today I’d love you to come along with me and Robbie to see them. Banger after banger after banger.
I guess that’s enough for today. Happy father’s day Dad, and happy happy birthday. You were so brilliant and I miss you so much. I’ll keep thinking about you every day. Love you. xxx
So much love to you, Kat. xxx
Taking lessons at a girls school and being the only boy in the class. I know that feeling!