Learning to dance in the rain

It’s a soggy day in Shropshire today on what would have been dad’s 66th birthday, so I’m treating myself to a chocolate brownie (I couldn’t find his favourite cake, coffee and walnut) after my walk. I’m thinking about how he taught me to dance in the rain, to keep going even when things don’t quite go to plan. He taught me that if you really want something, you work for it. When I wanted to go to university, I worked for a year to be able to afford to go. It made me appreciate it so much more. He showed me the beauty of solitude and how to be content with what we have.  It’s why I love van life so much I think. He introduced me to the diverse world of music from Sinatra to the greatest bands through the decades, Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Status Quo, Oasis, Foo Fighters and dance and R n’ B. Never was there a time when music would not be playing.

There are so many times and situations where I miss his wisdom and knowledge - a recent pub quiz, my van failing the MOT, getting hopelessly lost walking a trail. I can see him shaking his head now at me and it makes me smile. 

A few months ago on a walk with a friend, they went off and said ‘I’m just going to ring my dad.’ Those words and that simple action of phoning someone and hearing their voice sounds so small and insignificant, but when this becomes impossible with death, it seems so incredibly precious.

I do hear my dad’s voice and his laugh all the time and I’m lucky that on my journey through coping with grief I have more smiles now than tears at my memories of him. Today I am reminded again of A.A. Milne’s quote, ‘how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.’

So, happy birthday dad and thanks for being the best!