Five years have slipped by in a whisper. Today it´s my father´s anniversary, and the sun shines warmly this morning as I remember him.
An older Dad, 40 before I came screaming into his life, he was always the one on the block for shortening skipping ropes and fixing punctures, me his able assistant with the basin of water and the eagle eye for the telltale bubble.
Christening me Cinders on the many occassions I was let down or disappointed in childhood, on the 22nd June 1991 as I stood alone in the house with him in his new suit and me in in my wedding dress, he announced: `` You shall go to the ball...´´!
From him I inherited my bunions and double ankle joints - great for spraining - a love of books, Beefeater and a preference for animals over people.
My stubborn streak, short temper and solitude over silliness seems to be from the same gene pool!
Of the many hands shaken at his funeral, nearly everyone commented on the fact he was a quiet man, a private man. One local auctioneer - estate agent - remarked he was small - in stature - my answer was to agree, but to add he left an enormous space...
Today, I´m not sad - life is for living and the final chapter comes to us all, but I miss sharing a good wine, making silly moustaches from burnt cork (try it!) and the ultra short conversations when he answered the phone - I´ll get your mother ...
So tonight, I´ll raise a glass...x
An older Dad, 40 before I came screaming into his life, he was always the one on the block for shortening skipping ropes and fixing punctures, me his able assistant with the basin of water and the eagle eye for the telltale bubble.
Christening me Cinders on the many occassions I was let down or disappointed in childhood, on the 22nd June 1991 as I stood alone in the house with him in his new suit and me in in my wedding dress, he announced: `` You shall go to the ball...´´!
From him I inherited my bunions and double ankle joints - great for spraining - a love of books, Beefeater and a preference for animals over people.
My stubborn streak, short temper and solitude over silliness seems to be from the same gene pool!
Of the many hands shaken at his funeral, nearly everyone commented on the fact he was a quiet man, a private man. One local auctioneer - estate agent - remarked he was small - in stature - my answer was to agree, but to add he left an enormous space...
Today, I´m not sad - life is for living and the final chapter comes to us all, but I miss sharing a good wine, making silly moustaches from burnt cork (try it!) and the ultra short conversations when he answered the phone - I´ll get your mother ...
So tonight, I´ll raise a glass...x
Comments
Post a Comment