I couldn’t let the weekend go without paying a tribute to my dad. He died 18 years ago on 1st October. He had a heart attack, his second in 3 years. This one was fatal unlike the first, the paramedics couldn’t do anything and he died on the dining room floor. I’d just arrived at work when I got a message to ring my mam. When I rang her she was frantic so I headed straight over there. Her lovely next door neighbour (whom I’ve known since I was 6) was waiting for me at the end of the road. He took my hand and walked me along the path to my mams house. The paramedics had left by then and my dad was still lying on the floor. I didn’t go in to see him, didn’t want to. I wanted to remember him alive, happy and smiling.
That day was the worst day in my life. It was like the world had ended. Nothing would ever be the same and it isn’t. Its like a little bit of the light has faded. Nothing every seems as bright. Even now after all this time.
I still think about him, still sometimes dream about him. Think of him when I play his records, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, he loved them all. Think of him when I read his old books, he was a big reader, loved thrillers and Ed McBain.
And I still miss him. God bless you pops.