Remembering Dad

I have thought a lot about what I would do today over the past year as I planned my unplanned Big Adventure and many options have come my way. But today I am in Luang Prabang in northern Laos on the banks of the Mekong River. It is very relaxed here and I am delighted to have made the effort – taking two flights to escape Bangkok and paying more for them than I do for a week travel –not to mention going old school and buying them at the counter of the airline two hours before flying.

Because today I will be remembering my Dad’s passing.

10 years ago today I was with my sister buying magazines at Paper Plus. That’s when her phone rang. And we drove home so fast, so we could get home in time to hold Dad’s hand.  I lost my pal, my mentor, my joker, the “old fart”, my old man, all wrapped into my dearest darling Dad.

I shared a wonderful bond with my Dad and I miss him every day. Recently when I showed a family portrait to my niece she asked how old I was when Granddad Jim died. When I said 20, she said “oh that’s all right you were a grown up”. And I guess in many ways that seems fair but I assure you every day I miss dearest Dad. Over these past 10 years I have missed a massive part of my story by not being able to share it with him and for him to see the Adult Me. Like the day I graduated from University. All the rejection letters when I tried to get my first job. Seeing Fiona walk down the aisle with Mum and Thomas stand nervously looking the very image of Dad waiting for Vicky. Moving to London – knowing it was the right of passage for all of us kids, despite Dad having no desire to leave the South Island (“why, it has everything a man could ever want”). Being Johnny on the Spot at the America’s cup in Valencia - when all he ever wanted was a boat. Hearing the resounding chants of Swing Low at Twickenham sandwiched between two dear friends he never met – when every year we would wake at 3am to watch the match with chips & dip and milo to keep us pepped. Going to Wimbledon with Elizabeth – when he had encouraged us both to take up the sport. Going to a RWC game with his adorable grandchildren – the ones he would love unconditionally and spoil with his affection. Seeing the All Blacks win the Rugby World Cup on home soil – such a Dad moment for everyone in the stadium. Walking in the Myanmar hills with a 69 year old former soldier for a guide and sleeping in hill tribe villages with a group of Golden Oldies (I couldn't call them Old Farts now could I?!). And in the coming months making it to Base Camp…there is never an end to wanting to be able to share this with Dad. And I like to take those moments to remember him and share in his memory the new milestone.

On the flip side I did have dreadlocks though, and well Dad wouldn’t have been too happy about that. Right Thomas?

The thing with loss and grief is no matter how long it is, Dad is missing from the celebratory table, He is not there to answer my weird & wonderful questions only a Dad would know , Dad is not there to receive the excited phone calls, or there to hold me in his arms when the only cure is being in the safety of his arms.

So today call your Dad. Tell him what is in your heart. Tell him he is a wonderful gentleman, which you look up, and hope he is proud of you and the adult you have become. Thank him for his generosity and kindness and for teaching you that if you are going to drink like a man you have to work like a man. Thank him for taking you to the best of places in the best of weather. Thank him for his love and support. And tell him that you love him. I wish I could.

For now I will savour raising a glass of wine to you in this far flung Asian town and enjoy the dulcet tones of Billie Holiday singing Someone to Watch Over Me. I love you Dad xx