Hey Daddy

Hey daddy,

                      Sadly, I don’t know how to put everything in words right now. Everything’s just in limbo. You’re probably up above looking down with sad eyes. You’re probably singing your own wee songs to yourself, giggling like an idiot at how stupid they were. I miss hearing those songs and telling you to shut up amidst the laughs escaping my lips. I sadly only had nineteen years with you, and they were the best years of my life. Especially knowing you. You were the sweetest man alive in my life. We may have fought like cat and dog most of the time but you were and you will always be my father.

   Life this past week has been tough, from seeing you laid there stone cold and lifeless to phoning Uncle Tam and hearing his voice again in nine years. I’m scared to actually meet him again after so long because of the uncanny resemblance between all three of you. Uncle Jimmy included in that. Tough love is needed for all three of us right now. Mum, Craig and I. Mum’s been hit harder because it’s been 28 years since you guys got married and fell in love. Love at first sight was the perfect way to describe your relationship.

   Words are tough in this moment of time. It’s hard to keep my emotions in check, especially around mum. She’s trying and I’m trying to keep it under wraps so none of us breakdown around each other. I just wish you could’ve lived longer but that would’ve meant that you were suffering longer. It’s the only thing I’m thankful for, that you’re out of suffering. No more injections for your diabetes, no more medication to keep things levelled out. No more bandages to keep the liquid in your legs from pouring out. No more horrid times for hospital appointments, and having to struggle to get to them.

    To say this week has been easy would be an understatement. It’s been the worst week in history, and that’s even including when Auntie Anne died. I never thought I’d lose my superhero, my rock and my protector. Not while I was only a teen. It sucks not seeing your Santa Claus beard every morning when I awaken and walk down stairs. It’s strange not hearing your booming voice daily and it’s strange not hearing your machines bleeping. I guess that’s what people mean when you have a reality check.

   Mum can barely fold your clothes without wanting to breakdown and cry. She hugs the teddy I bought you for father’s day a few years ago. She probably cries at night too but there’s no solid proof of that. We keep going over the memories we share of you, to keep your memory alive but it’s hard sometimes. Because you’re not physically here to keep those memories alive. You’re not here to help create new ones on top of the ones we already have.

    My teddy you bought me, as a baby has become my cushion to hold. It’s been my sparring partner in the times of need. It’s became my pillow on the lonely nights and it’s something I’ll keep hold of and remember you telling me that it was you that bought it for me.

     Having to plan this funeral and telling everyone of your death has been the hardest thing yet. Some days we expected your death to come sooner but hoped it didn’t. We knew you were unwell a lot, and had days of just wanting to go but you fought through the pain and the hardships you were suffering with. You are my light to live a better life. You’re my saviour whenever I feel like giving up.

    My mental health problems seem like the least important thing right now - and they are. I need to step up and face the relegations of going forth as a three than a four. It sucks having to move forward without you but I am going to try and I am going to help mum. She misses you more every day, but as everyone’s explained to me, you’re just sleeping now. You’re having a prolonged sleep for the rest of your life.

    I never ever told you this because of the arguments we always had, but I love you. Family is meant to love, even with the fights you have regularly. It might’ve been over stupid things, like Craig getting something and I didn’t, and vice versa but you are my dad and I will always love you no matter what. Things rarely get easier in life, with all the problems you face but dad, you fought valiantly with your illnesses and the new diagnoses you were given in the last few years.

     I wish you could be here, helping with everything. Moving into the house you loved for the views and the solidarity of it but sadly, we can’t move there anymore. I hope you’re fine with Craig and I putting in for a council house, moving away from the house you loved. I also hope you’re fine with our Uncles (your brothers) having our numbers, even though you didn’t really want to talk to them. But you should know that they’ve been trying for nine/ten years to find you to keep in contact. They’re as devastated as the rest of us are. They didn’t just lose their brother, they lost their best friend too. Just like mum lost her other half.

   Everyone’s shocked with the whole ordeal of your sudden passing. It’s just happened like a tonne of bricks falling down. Planning and buying isn’t a nice thing to be doing. However, I just hope you’re proud of how we’re managing so far without you, daddy. We love and miss you even more every day. I hope you’re finally at peace with everything and enjoying being with your family again.

I love you, daddy.

Your loving daughter,

Marriann xx