This evening I had a FaceTime call with my mum to see that she’d landed safely at my brothers (after a long delay during her flight transfer) and speak to my beautiful nephews (unfortunately one was out with my sister-in-law but the other gave me some lovely smiles whilst chasing bubbles round the garden). What I loved hearing was how excited Little L had been at the arrival of Granny and that he’s beamed all weekend.
I’ve always loved hearing how the relationship between my mum and the boys develops and I do miss hearing the tales of Poppa M and how he and little L adored each other. I have up at home a picture of him lovingly beaming with pride over looking one week old Oli. Now I’m a parent myself I realise this is the biggest grieving challenge I’m facing, I won’t ever get to see my Dad love my daughter.
I know my brother is grateful for the time my Dad got with the boys and will wish that this could’ve grown and developed further just like everyone else’s bond and love for them has. This makes me beg the question, which is more difficult? Not having ever witnessed Dads love and pride for your children or never getting to? To be fair, you can’t compare these things, it’s just all s**t really isn’t it?
The fact is I have to keep my Dad living on through me and even though I’ve not seen it I know he would’ve spent the last 6 and a half weeks cooing over Baby P. When she’s big enough I can share stories and quirks with her and let her know how much he would’ve loved her.
Selfishly, I also want to see his reaction to me being a Mummy. I’ve seen my mum gush with pride at my brother and his wife and me and my husband as we’ve all blessed her with grandchildren.
For now, I just have to figure out how I cope with missing what I’ve never a had, my Dad around whilst I’m being a Mummy. In the meantime I’ll just make sure I talk to my daughter about her Poppa M.