It’s been three years since Dad’s passing and nothing much has changed since last year. I still think of him every day. Something I say, something I see or something I hear tweaks the memory and thoughts of Dad drift into my head again. I still miss him although the pain is not so great any more. I still miss his wit, his wonderful view of life and his love of life. Others tease me but none so well as he could.
Mum is still doing it hard. She has times when she looks around and goes to tell him something then notices that he is not there any more. At least she feels comfortable in his train room now, occupied as it is with my books. I know she has blue days still, something she hears, or sees, or smells, or remembers and “gets a little weepy”. I guess that is the strength of the love she shared with Dad.
Still thinking of you Dad.