Snowflakes

Apparently no two snowflakes are the same.

 

 I miss my dad, especially around this time of year.  I miss his kind face and the fact he choked up whenever I went home to visit, and every time I had to leave.  I miss joking about nothing and laughing about how we were 'working class'.  I miss the way I always felt safe whenever he was around and the smell of him - like tobacco and soap and paint mixed together.  I miss knowing that no matter what happened I could always go to him and everything would be ok.  I miss the fact I never had to tell him what was going on and he never had to give me words of advice, but with a look we both somehow knew.  I miss his hands.  I miss playing cards for pennies while drinking shandy and eating peanuts with him and mum.  I miss the sound of his cough - I mean how stupid is that, but I do.  I miss my hero.  I miss my dad.

Dad died two days before Christmas.  I had gone home to visit with some drama surrounding and my boyfriend at the time (Clutz) knew that the best thing for me would be to visit my dad.  Dad was taken into hospital the night we arrived.  After a day or two of worrying we were told that night at visiting that dad would be able to come home the next day.  We were giggling and laughing as usual in the hospital and he was joking with us and one of the nurses that he could stand on his oxygen tube and they would panic and come running.  Everyone seemed to warm to dad easily and he had built a good rapport over with the nurses.  We kissed him goodnight, and said we would see him the following day to pick him up. 

The phone rang at 2/3am that morning and without hearing the voice at the other end I knew dad had died.  They said he had a heart attack and went quickly with no pain; but I guess they always say that.

Mum crumbled and I was left to try and pick her up and organise things.  I've no idea how to organise a funeral to this day and yet somehow, at the time, age 20, I managed to do so.  I picked the flowers, organised the church, mum picked a casket as dad wanted to be cremated and I wrote the speech. 

I would have liked to read it myself but there was no way I would have been able to get the words out for crying/choking up - something I inherited from my dad.  I asked mum to read what I had written the day before as I had spoken about all the people in his life other than me as I didn't feel I could do that.  I hoped she would add something in, but she never did.

I still wonder if I hadn't taken my pile of crap home if he wouldn't have ended up in hospital, if the stress brought it all on?  I also wonder what he would think of me if he could see me today, would be be angry, sad, proud?  I miss him deeply and I'm not sure you ever get over that, I know I don't think I will.

My dad was like a snowflake.  One of a kind.  I miss him.

--------------------------

I once played this at a school concert and I remember looking into the crowd and seeing my dads eyes how he would say 'proud as punch'.

Elaine Page - Memory

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhlJZdQDz5E