I remember the day it was officially just Dad and I. Mum had passed and it was just us. Down to just one parent and both of us with broken hearts. But we picked ourselves up, put our heads down and continued on. I learnt how to cook a roast from scratch at the age of 15 and Dad taught himself how to make lasagna in the microwave.
I perfected ironing all his work shirts and the boys’ uniforms on a Sunday night, whilst watching the TV. Dad now had no choice but to come along/enjoy my saxophone recitals and my speech and drama performances.
He taught me how to drive (despite an unfortunate incident involving a garden bed) and I taught him how to use a mobile phone. He cried when I walked out in my formal dress and I cried watching his tears. He educated me in the art of The Goons, and I introduced him to The Late Show.
He helped me keep Mum’s memory alive and we started new family traditions to fill the gap. We turned into a crack team, one that preferred laughter over sadness. Now, I am lucky that the team has grown and I’ve been blessed with an amazing father in law as well – a man I am so proud to have in my life and one that means the world to us.
Here’s to the memories, good and bad, of growing up with our dads and growing a strong team of amazing men around us. Here’s to the memories yet to be made, this time, with them as granddads and Poppas, teaching our children the lessons we learnt – this time hopefully without the microwave lasagna (it wasn’t good, sorry Dad).
