Forget me not
I have been posting a few anecdotes and memories about my dad this whole week and I've been very touched by how many friends and family have involved themselves in these little posts...liking, sharing their own memories and indulging my rambling. I write, of course to share a little bit of my relationship with him - the fun, warm and endearing side of him. But it's also been an outlet for me - for I'm terrified he will be forgotten. I know that's not possible, for my dad was anything but forgettable I don't think there is anyone who has met him who would ever have forgotten him. But it still plays on my mind and this is my way of grieving...to write about him.
His birthday today also marks a year since I last saw him (well technically three days later on Rishan's birthday). There are many cliches one hears about telling those you love how much you love them everyday because you never know what may happen and your last words shouldn't be something you regret. I would have loved to have had a chance to say so many things, to have a last hearty chuckle where his face crinkled up and he wheezily laughed; to give him a hug and to hold his hand and sit in companionable silence; and so much more. But when I think of it, our last meeting was probably the way I'd always like to remember him. Our family together, it was Rishan's birthday party and he was running around and sweating so much and my dad was telling him to comb his hair. And before Rishan knew it his nana had whipped out a comb and plastered his hair into a nerdy slicked right-and-left do, which made me burst out laughing. We ate cake, there was much laughter and a cheerful kiss and hug and see you soon. That's not a bad last meeting
Raising a glass to him tonight (whisky of course!) - to an extraordinary man who fit so much into his 67 years...I hope he's eating cake wherever he may be