This is my version of what happened. I know those around me will remember it differently. Some things I will mis-remember on purpose, some without even knowing, and some memories will change again as I change. My memory is never amazing when it comes to detail, but I remember a feeling like it’s happening right now. Forgive me if I leave questions unanswered, or details are blurry, but then maybe you’ll relate to my feelings.
Ask me about my childhood and I’ll answer ‘happy’ and maybe even ‘idyllic’. That’s honestly how it felt. In my head: a loving family, tiny village school, fabulous friends, and doting pets. On paper: single parent family, council house, different surnames to Mum and siblings.
I can’t remember ever living with my dad because he and Mum split up when I was a baby. I grew up ignorant of their violent rows – I just saw respect and a deep friendship. No schedule. No regular maintenance, but somehow, they made it work. As an adult, it’s hard to trust my own memory, but that’s the narrative my emotions have chosen.
I loved my dad. I especially loved that he was ALL MINE. Dad travelled a lot. He was a forever bachelor, unable to really take care of himself. I particularly remember hearing him have adult conversations about pneumonia, asthma and possible tropical diseases caught on planes.
I didn’t see it coming. I felt stupid for this. I was angry. I had so much left to tell him. To ask him. To discover. Two days later, I picked up my A-Level results and sobbed. Friends thought I had done awfully. I hadn’t – I was so proud of myself but so sad I couldn’t just pick up the phone and tell him. I was also terrified. All my plans were changing. I was meant to be following Mum’s footsteps and go to Uni in Wales, near Dad, but what was the point now?
Reflecting now, maybe I didn’t have time to grieve. Physically.
The next thing I knew, my boyfriend was driving me to my first day at a completely different Uni and I was staying at home with Mum. We quickly planned a funeral that my poor mum had to pay for. We all had to guess and make decisions. Again, hushed conversations over my head, “he must have seen it coming”, “why didn’t he leave plans, wishes, some money?”
So, this is my version of what happened. Even when we know death is coming, do we ever see grief coming? And would it change anything if we did?
Over the past 20 years, I’ve learned to let people in, let people help and remember that it’s okay to smile. It’s also okay to be sad. It always seems unfair that the world just keeps going and there’s no time to just step off for a while, but maybe that’s to help us all keep going.
I’ve learned to say ‘yes’ to doing things with friends, even when I haven’t felt like it. Don’t be hesitant to talk about who you’ve lost and how you feel; it may be hard to do, but worth it. Seeking support definitely helped me too, but more so my friends that allowed me that safe space and open ear. I’m a teacher now and inquisitive students (as well as my own children), asking innocent questions gently force me to think, reflect and talk, and that’s okay. I’m grateful for my dad – these experiences shape us, and no matter how you feel, it really is okay.