18.05.2018

Your ashes were interned in the wall of remembrance today. Mum made me cry when she described the box that held your mortal remains, she said you would have approved.

I sat down to email you one night, I needed advise, but that doesn’t work anymore. For the first time in my life I had to navigate on my own, my guide had taken a different path. I was utterly lost. In that moment I realised just how someone “adrift” at sea must feel, completely directionless. For the first time in my life when I was faced with an issue that seemed unsolvable I didn’t have you to bounce things off. I couldn’t run things by you and organise my own thoughts. That positive place I went to, that made me feel better about myself, was closed. It sucks Dad! It really hurts not having you to speak to. It hurts knowing I will never hear your voice again or see you smile or wrap my arms around the man who gave the best hugs. It really sucks, I don’t like the way missing you hurts and I am so tired of crying. I still need you, we all still need you.

This weekend, because life just keeps going on, we were going about our day with the usual reprimands, giggles and mugs of coffee. I was arguing with a ‘tween because she was doing thing her way not mine, following a child around trying to get her to do her chores and avoiding colliding with the Mauritian as he walked passed lugging the vacuum cleaner. The issue was still unsolved, I still hurt but life is just so normal, so regular. Then our Butterfly lighted a candle by your picture, smiled at you and said “Well hello there Ian” and went back to doing things her way. Smiling at her as she pranced off the Mauritian said to me that he could still hear your voice sometimes, especially at work when he felt like he was losing control. That’s when I realised you have never stopped talking to me, never stopped guiding me I just had to shift my paradigms a little. So I sat down and wrote that email, knowing I would never send it, knowing you would never physically read it or reply and the fog began to clear.

Oh, my first and last, I will always miss you and I don’t think I will ever stop hurting, but I hear you Dad I know you are there always.