Feelings on Father’s Day

How am I doing this year?
I’ve been thinking about Dad extra amounts this week. More has reminded me of him. I’ve felt quieter and more subdued. I’ve been nervous about how today would be. 

This morning I’m trying to keep busy, but also keep in mind the knowledge that I can still celebrate Fathers Day. I have a wonderful Dad, that in twenty six years with me, gave me a wonderful childhood, advice and so much love. 

Looking forward, this time next year, we will be celebrating Father’s Day in a different way. We will be parents, caring for our gorgeous little boy or girl. A child far less fortunate than myself, in regards to parenting. Jim will step into that role. He will be wonderful. He is so much like my own Dad. 

Please don’t feel sorry for me, or any other grieving children today. Just promise me you will spend time with your own Dad’s while you still have the chance.


I did not write anything on here over the holiday period. I wanted to just live it, you know, without the reflection all of the time. I felt flutters of all sorts throughout the entire holiday and didn’t want to cement my flutterings on here, if that’s all they were. I do want to mark it though. Both days are very big firsts, and both different. I want to remember how I felt in the moment. I also want to share my feelings honestly, hoping they might help others. Below are writings from both days. As they were, as I wrote them, as I felt at that exact moment. Flutterings.

Fluttering one- written 26th December 2016:

And that’s a wrap. Christmas has been wonderful this year, itΒ felt as full as our tummies. I was really hoping it wouldn’t feel broken and like pieces were missing. Obviously there was a lump in my throat most of the day, but we made it. We did it. If we can do Christmas we can do anything. Cheers to everyone, especially you Dad πŸ’•

Fluttering two- written 1st January 2017:

That was so hard. The end of 2016. The year my Dad existed is done. Yesterday I could say ‘this year’, now I have to say ‘last year’, and soon it’ll be ‘a while a go’. I couldn’t see midnight. It was far too awful. I went to bed and was soothed to sleep after manyΒ many tears. I don’t want this year to finish. I don’t want my Dad to get further and further away from us.

Setting the table

There are lots of things that hurt that I expected would hurt. 

There are also things that hurt that I hadn’t anticipated.

This is one of those.

Every night we set the table I count through the people in the house.

I count Mum, Joe, Fred, Ella, Jim, Myself and 

and… erm…

and it stings every single time.

I thought I would get used to it, but it’s still the same pain as 11 weeks ago.

I still make myself do it though, set the table I mean, because if I don’t do it someone else will feel the sting.

Sometimes I just get all the plates, cups and cutlery out in piles on the table for people to help themselves to avoid any counting at all.

So that’s a thing.

Everything else is gliding along though.

It’s all happening and we’re kind of floating along with it.

I’m feeling a little more these days, still not in full HD 1080p yet, but it’s progress.

I’m trying really hard to look forward to Christmas. I love this time of year so much. I’m determined to make it happy and lovely and memorable.

If all this has taught me something I am a determined little soul. πŸ™ˆ


Happy Saturday you lovely lot πŸ’•

Stars and bright lights ✨ 

It’s another first in our household. My darling Dad would have turned 50 today. 

We’ll be thinking of you as we watch the bright lights under the stars tonight.

I don’t believe you are looking down on me, but I know I will be thinking about you. 

I don’t think I have ever had bonfire night without you. It’s usually a night filled with friends, family and fun games that you organise.

Last year was no different, this year is a little different.

It will be a quieter celebration this year. I am hoping to stand by the bonfire and feel warmth both inside and out.

My last post was an angry one, but I have felt peaceful since posting it. 

I feel content today. I didn’t think I would but am pleased I do.

I can only wish the same for loved ones around me.

Have a wonderful bonfire night my friends.


Feeling it

I haven’t felt any true emotion for months.

I’ve been numb.

Very little sadness, guilt, fear, happiness, anger, love, contentment.

I’ve made brash decisions that I wouldn’t usually make because I have lost whatever emotion it is that stops you.

But just now, tonight, as I lay awake in these quiet lonely secret moments, I feel a black poison inside of me.

It’s bubbling in my chest, previously caged by my ribs, now boiling over. Leaking into my veins, spilling into my organs, spreading to my finger tips.

I’m not angry at you.

I’m not angry at cancer.

I am angry that people I love are left behind.

I am angry that my loved ones are feeling this so deeply and profoundly.

I am angry that you will miss out on ever so much.

I       am       angry.

It’s a horrible and overwhelming emotion that I very rarely get to feel.

I have never been truly angry, not like this.

Sometimes I look or sound angry, but I’m not. It’s just a translucent misting on the surface.

Not like this.

This is a thick tar, clogging up other feelings,

 suffocating them.

I hope the joyful bubbles in life will be able to dilute this feeling. 

One day. 

But right now. It’s new and it’s scary. 

I am the ultimate optimist.

I am ‘little Miss Sunshine’

But not tonight.

And that’s okay,

I know.

My old kit bag.

I carry around all of the emotions all of the time. 

I choose to wear my happy feelings. 

I dance and skip and sing. I wear a smile on my face and wrinkles by my eyes. My feet are bouncy and my arms are open. 

These are the feelings I have that I want people to see, the ones I don’t mind being judged on.

 They are true and real and honest.
But they are not all I have, not all I carry around with me. 

You see, I have this bag. It is packed full of other emotions. Ones I have but don’t want anyone to see. 

Troubles. Worries. Sadness. Anger. Bitterness. Confusion. Hate.

These are also true and real and honest. 

They are with me everywhere I go. 

Sometimes a bead of sadness creeps out of my bag and makes my eyes sting, I rarely let it stay long enough for it to slide down my cheek before I pack it away again. In my bag. 

I am aware of my bag all of the time. I think I need to open it up more often, but I don’t really have a place I feel safe enough to. 

Apart from here. This is a safe place. I can be honest here. 

If I was being honest, I would admit that I feel sad most of the time- I just try not to show it. 

I miss my Dad. 

I miss him. 

I miss him so much. 

Life is different.

I’m not sure I like it.

It’s really hard to just carry on like nothing’s happened. 

Something has happened.

Life hasn’t stopped, life doesn’t stop. It just keeps on going. 

But something big and massive has happened.

It’s changed me.

Most things are different now. 


Pack it up. Fold it away. Zip it up.

In my bag.

And Smile,



Our new normal.

Everything is slipping back to normal this week, well our new normal anyway.

We all started back at work or school.

We are all being very brave.

My wounds of the last fortnight are fading and new aches are taking their place.

I felt comfort that my poorly Father was taken from us.

But now, over two weeks on, I’m remembering the Dad I had before all of this. I don’t feel comfort that he’s gone.

He was awesome.

He was fun and wise and nice to have around.

He was energetic and encouraging.

The house is quieter without his voice in it.

We are still sitting all together to eat. Making jokes and conversation. We are still playing board games and watching films.

But it all feels different.

It is all different.

Our new different normal.

We will get used to this, I know we will.

I know these aches will fade and bruises will appear in their place.

Thank you for looking out for us still. This week is going to be one of our hardest yet,

Getting used to a new different normal that we didn’t ask for.

Trying to be thankful, strong and happy in a future, this time last year we wouldn’t have imagined possible.