I read this blog post today and it seemed poignant to return to my own blog, especially after yesterday, attending the funeral of a regular customer of a pub I both worked in and frequented a lot, this gentlemen was also the father of a very good friend and offering my support to my friend obviously brought home a lot of my own thoughts and feelings of losing my Dad not long ago.
This post really made me think about how my life has changed since losing my Dad and how different would it be if he were still here. Well in someways, a lot, we’ve built a new home (Dad’s passing was in the midst of a nightmare chain of house sales and purchases!), I’m growing a small human inside me and finishing off a masters in preparation for graduation at Christmas! But realistically things would’ve happened anyway, we were moving house in preparation for growing a family, my masters would’ve been completed earlier after only being extended due to Dad’s death and the closeness to my deadline date. The only difference would’ve been him being around to share it with, even if over Skype, whatsapp, email, carrier pigeon and smoke signals!!
So why does life feel different? Why are things carrying on as they would and yet feel different? Because as the author of the article summarises, someone else would be here too.
Someone else would be building up the excitement of my first born child, someone else would be joking with my husband about the sleepless nights and nappy changes to come. Someone else to add to the embarrassing stories of how I was as a baby/toddler. Someone else would be sharing stories over how my nephews are growing up, how my step son is becoming a “teenager” and how my mum is becoming more and more like my granny everyday!
If Dad was still I alive, I still be able to moan about his bad habits, poor jokes and how gormless he could be! If he were still alive there’d be someone else to tell me off for worry over nothing, making mountains out of mole hills, getting worked up over what others think and for being the stubborn little sh*t I’ve always been. At the end of the day, if he were still alive the big things wouldn’t have changed or be any different but the little finer details would be and it’s the small things that matter the most, it’s the small details that make the big things so important. It’s the reactions and the sharing of the big things with people that matter that count, that’s what is important. So if Dad were still alive, there’d be someone else to add to the smaller details about the big things and that’s what I miss.