This morning, I did something that a week ago I would have thought was impossible: I woke up to a world without my Dad in it.
In the last week, I have cried, I have curled up in bed at all times of the day because I want this pain to stop, but I have also walked along the harbour in Emsworth, fed the ducks, cooked meals, attended my writing class and written something new, talked and - once more in the realm of the impossible - laughed with my beautiful, brave sisters and my friends, whose kindness I will spend the rest of my life trying to repay. I have been trying, very hard, to live in a world without my Dad in it.
I don’t have any wisdom to share - I don’t know how I’m doing it, but I am doing it and that will have to do for now. Some aspects of these days have been surreal. My sisters and I are planning the funeral and at times I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that he won’t be there. Grief must turn everyone into an idiot.
The truth is, he will be there with us; he is there every day. When I was mustering whatever it was I needed to get to university on Wednesday, it was Dad’s voice in my head I could hear, not letting me give up and miss out on something I love. I think this is partly because I know how proud he was of me for my writing and partly just an echo of all those times he used to tell us there was nothing wrong with us and we should get up and go to school. I can assure you, being the child of two nurses is the worst possible set up for anyone hoping to skive from anything; I never thought I would be grateful for that.
He is there because neither he nor my Mum ever left any doubt about the fact that they are proud of me and support whatever I do. I’ve never had to earn their faith in me, never had to prove myself all. I only now realise how lucky that makes me - now he’s gone, I have no doubts about how much he loved me. He never failed to have my back and I know whatever else happens in these coming days, he would let me take my time and know that I will get to where I need to be eventually. I also know my Mum will never let me down, she will continue as a one-woman cheering squad for whatever daft or seemingly unfeasible dreams I may harbour. My sisters will have stern words to say to anyone who thinks I’m an oddball. My nieces and nephew will never see me as anything other than Awesome Auntie Z.
We’re not a gushing family - we don’t hug and call each other darling. We show our love in small ways, in ways that don’t need to be spoken aloud because that love and respect is understood. Whoever we are, whatever we do, there is a heart of home we can always come back to and be safe.
I take that back - it’s not a small thing at all. It’s all I need to keep going, to breathe in and out for each long hour, each day stretched out beyond what I think I can bear.
I’m doing it, Dad, OK? I’m keeping my promise and I will do my best to live all my days as fully as you’d want me to. I know my best is good enough.
