Remembering

Three years on from his death, we have been remembering my dad today.

We walked round to mum’s house this afternoon in the snow.

I remember the wonderful toboggan style sledge dad made for me and my brother, and the fun we had sledging on the hills around our Derbyshire home.

I wore my autumnal coloured woolly fingerless gloves.

I bought the yarn for those gloves on the knitting stall in the indoor market, three years ago this morning, the day my dad died. While I was paying for it, my mum phoned to let me know he was still in the Emergency Assessment Unit and still not at all well. On the days that followed, I knitted the lacy fingerless gloves as a way to soothe me and keep me sane through the early days of my grief. I wore them for the first time at his funeral.

We stayed for tea and lit a candle on the table.

Eating together was one of my dad’s favourite things to do. Buying food for the people he loved was one of the best ways he knew to show his love for us.

We walked home again in the dark, me and my daughters laughing and smiling as the pouring snow fell all around us.

Dad loved spending time with us, his children, enjoying the world around us – flying kites on the hill at Alport Stone; collecting conkers up on Bolehill Moor; walking behind us as we cycled at top speed along the High Peak Trail.

One and I played Trivial Pursuit together after Three was in bed. I won, but she put up a good fight and we are going to play again tomorrow.

I remember playing Trivial Pursuit with my brother and my mum back when we were teenagers. Dad always refused to play with us, but knew all the answers and would call them out triumphantly from his armchair before we had chance to speak up for ourselves. It was INFURIATING! He was such a rich source of random knowledge.

We have our own candles lit now. I loved my dad; he loved us. All of us have our warm, vivid memories of him. My memories make me smile every day. Even the infuriating ones!

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