On this day 24 years ago my father passed away.
24 years ago we had all gathered at my parents home because it was the Anzac day public holiday. I remember him that last day, unwell in his bed recovering from the last round of chemo, struggling to sit up & raise a glass in a toast.
Later that night my sister rang to say Dad had been rushed to the Emergency room & had died.
Each Anzac Day is a poignant reminder that
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them"
He had succumbed to cancer at just 52 years of age, he would not grow old nor the years condemn. He was such a good father & a really nice man, a gentleman. He loved golf, traveling, cooking, fishing & enjoyed a beer. He had a propensity for putting himself in situations that would make our mother hold her breath.
It was such a shame he never got to be a grandfather, he would have been a fantastic poppy.
It would have been fun to see him with grandsons, as well as the granddaughters, teaching them things as he taught his 3 daughters, all manner of practical things.
There are a myriad of quirky things that come to mind; the way he always cut off your head in a photo, the way he loved to read & rarely watched TV. That he loved to have a piece of chocolate with his beer but didn't eat dessert.
My mother said to me in the last days before her death that she had missed him every single day of the 19 years since he had gone. I missed having an adult relationship with him, being able to ask his opinion or advice, enjoying his company.
I was the only daughter to have him walk me down the aisle, just 3 months later he was gone. The look in this photo was classic Dad.
Still miss you.