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.

Hate breeds hate

I am saddened to see so much hate on my newsfeed this morning. 

So many close minded opinions, sharing of religious statements taken out of context and articles plucked from thin air to prove your way is right. 

I love a healthy debate. One in which each person in turn airs their views, open to be swayed by others in a way to understand eachother and consolidate what you believe.

I agree we have to challenge those that are doing wrong in our eyes, not to condemn but to understand why they think differently from us.

Next time you see hurtful comments or articles shared, instead of tutting and ignoring it, or sending hurtful comments straight back why don’t you ask a challenging open question?

E.g.

  • I am intrigued by your point of view. I would like to understand how you came to think this way?
  • I understand your anger, I am saddened by what is happening too. What do you think you or I can do to help on a day to day basis?
  • I am trying really hard to understand where you are coming from. Could you please send me useful links so I can research this for myself?

Can you hear the difference? It is obvious you are from another opinion, but you are open to be swayed or challenged. 

Maybe this way you will either:

  1. Receive a very well thought out answer that may help you understand where they are coming from.
  2. Have the opportunity to share your beliefs also in an open and relaxed discussion
  3. Or more hateful statements will be returned and at this point you can choose to leave the conversation or ask another kind and considered open question.

I am going to be selective on what I write and when. Maybe private messages rather than comment sections will be more amicable?

I have no idea if it’s going to work, but I can’t swipe passed anymore hate without doing something about it.

I would appreciate your support.

Please share your kind and open opinions on what I have said in the comments section below.

Remember love online, offline, always.

My Perfect Home

My home is tidy and clean.

The washing basket has a quick turn over, the kitchen sides are clear and my fridge door is magnet free.

Art on the walls have been carefully chosen, the walls are freshly painted and I have quirky little nicknacks placed ‘just so’ on my shelves.

Our TV stays on channels we want to watch, we can be spontaneous with our weekend and our night’s sleep is forever long.

This all sounds lovely right?

Like a 5***** place to stay right?

It is beautiful, but it is empty.

 

My home is empty.

You know, I would give it all up tomorrow for handprints on the cupboard doors, splashes up the bathroom walls, and questionable art displayed on the fridge.

For a washing basket full of muddy football kits and an empty fridge and freezer.

To replace the nicknacks for nappies.

BBC for CBeebies

Date nights with nights in

Long nights, with regular coffee breaks and bags under my eyes

 

My house would buzz with playful chaos.

 

 

I know what you ‘already parents’ are thinking ‘you’re just saying that because you haven’t got it yet’ , ‘just you wait!’, ‘enjoy it while you’ve got it’.

and I know you are right

but knowing it doesn’t fill the quietness.

 

 

you know?

 

All I’m doing is focusing on September.

In will bounce a busy little thing with their own chaos and I just want to soak it all up.

Im trying hard to enjoy the quiet while I have it. Im just excited.

you know?

 

 

Flutterings.

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, it 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 💕

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 many many tears. I don’t want this year to finish. I don’t want my Dad to get further and further away from us.

I cried in Lidl.

It’s my assembly today.

I need to buy smarties to hand out to mask the fact I’m bloody shitting it and my hands are shaking and my throat is dry. Chocolate is a great distraction.

I go to Lidl.

I pick up the mini smarties.

I queue.

I queue.

I queue.

The till beside me opens.

“Would you like to come over?”

Bodies rush passed me. 

Trolleys brush the backs of my legs.

They were behind me.

They have more than me.

I ask

“I only have one thing. Do you mind if I…”

(After all I was in front of them)

The answer is no. 

I smile.

I say “okay”

I take my mini smarties back to the original queue.

I wait.

I feel a tear run down my cheek.

Why am I crying?

The man in front sees me.

He offers me his place in front. He has a kind face.

I cry more. I can’t stop.

I pay for my mini smarties with tears running off of my cheeks.

I smile at the concerned man.

I smile at the concerned cashier.

I leave.

Just like that.
I wasn’t crying because of the lady with the trolley. It wasn’t her fault.

I was crying because it’s all too much.

All of it.

just too much.
I did my assembly.

It worked, the smarties, my voice, my hands. 

Then I left.

Just like that.

Turning 27.

It’s my twenty seventh birthday tomorrow. 

I’m not an excited, fidgeting, ‘counting down the days’ little girl anymore. 

But I still get flutters when I see my birthday on expiry dates in the supermarket. 

I still get jitters when brightly coloured envelopes decorate my hallway. 

This one will be slightly different. There will be things missing. Traditions slipped away. This gives me flutters and jitters too.

I have said to Mum that I don’t want to receive a card from her this year. It will hurt her to write it, and it will hurt me to read it. 

It’s not just a name missing. It’s the stupid drawings that make no sense on the inside cover. (He thought he was hilarious). 

One year my Dad couldn’t find any flowers in the supermarket, so bought me a cauliflower instead. (He really did think he was hilarious!!)

No vegetables will be darning my cereal bowl this year.

But, I will have a lovely day tomorrow. 
Church, then out for a roast lunch, then walks and board games at home. 

Almost perfect.
Tomorrow will be a first.

We’re going to be doing quite a few ‘firsts’ this year.

I’m determined to make it a happy one. 

After all, we didn’t know this would be our fate on my twenty sixth birthday, who knows what will happen next year? 

The time to be happy is now. 

It’s our only guarantee. 

Happy weekend everyone! 

Xx

What not to say.

My family have an incredible support network around during this very difficult time.

You lot have been amazing and your kind words have been much needed support and encouragement for all of us.

There are some words however, that are meant as kind and uplifting words but they cut deep. 

These are the words I do not want to hear anymore. 

If you would be so kind?

It’s mainly stories of ‘miracle healings’ that hurt the most. Often starting with “well you never know… I heard about this one guy…”

I listen. I smile. I say thank you. 

But inside I’m using all my energy not to wince and scream from the roof tops “CANT YOU SEE!? MY DAD IS THE MIRACLE”

It is now 6 months since my dad was given 8 weeks to live. 

You’ve got it all wrong.

Why can’t you see?

You should be using my dad as the example, he should be the ‘miracle guy’ you tell others about.

He is amazing.

He is doing amazingly. 

Your stories don’t help us believe in miracles, because we have the biggest proof right in front of us.

I believe in miracles.

I am in amongst one.

It’s freaking awesome.

So, 

If you could be so kind,

Please stop.

Instead;

Pray for strength.

Pray for comfort.

And share our story.

Thank you.