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?


  • 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.

Two Kids

#throwback a good few years to when we were just kids in love on a beach holiday in Cornwall. So much has happened since here.

We met at sixteen at school. We were very quickly best friends. He was weird, eccentric and quirky. I was intrigued by him. He made me laugh. He made me more confident to be weird too.

We had so much fun at school with an amazing group of friends around us. 

We’ve been together ten years this January. That’s a long time. Little did we know back then, when we were weird loved up kids, that we would still be here. Together.

We’ve been separated across the Pacific for two lots of five months.We’ve  lived across seas. We’ve been through university and a half, we’e got married, we’ve bought and renovated our first home, we’ve had five close family members pass away. We’ve come up with a whole load of issues around building our own family…

…and yet through it all, we’ve been there for eachother.

This week I found us again. I hadn’t realised how far we had gotten from eachother. We see eachother everyday, speak to one another everyday and yet for a while there i’d lost sight of you. It’s not until you find eachother again that you realise how far from eachother you’ve become. 

Thank you for hanging around, waiting for me to be in a good place. You are ever so loyal. It helps me know that everything life will throw at us we can get through together. It will mould us and our relationship, we will be stronger, more resilient and hopefully lean on eachother even more.

Because weve got to remember

through all of it, 

we are still just two kids in love.

Father’s Day

So lots of people are asking how we are, and I am sure many more are wanting to ask but don’t know if they should. So here is a little update for you all…


When people ask ‘So, how’s your Dad?’ I don’t really know what to say.

The thing is I don’t really know the answer.

Last Friday, after tests, the Doctors said his liver was in a bad way and the chemo was no longer helping. As you can imagine this was a massive blow to our entire family. They warned us of what signs to look out for and told us what we should expect. It wasn’t good news.

This was my wake up call.

I obviously hadn’t forgotten all of this was happening, but the dust had settled on it all  I suppose. I described it to my Dad as if I was walking along a path, living my life with a massive shadow hovering over me. The shadow was his cancer. I knew it was there, but if I didn’t look back I could forget how huge it was. I’ve lived my life in this way for weeks now. Hearing what the doctors had to say, on that Friday, made me face it all. I turned around and faced the shadow. The shadow was far larger and far closer than when I had last turned my head. It scared me. It stopped me in my tracks and forced me to look.

I knew then that I needed to stop. Stop turning away. Stop living my life like normal, just for a bit. I needed time to face up to this massive shadow in my life. I needed time to take it in.

I didn’t go to work on Monday.

Or Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday.

These days went slowly.


But I had time. Time to think, remember and be there.


I enjoyed having time to ‘pop in’ to my parents house, help out and distract them. But four days was enough. It started to be counter productive, staring behind me all of the time.


By Friday I was ready, to start on my journey again. On the path that is normal life.


And to answer your question….my Dad’s alright you know, he is our walking miracle.


Still no pain killers

Still eating well

Still socialising

Still smiling

Still got cancer


and that’s life as we know it. Our new normal.


Thank you for caring and asking and not asking.

You lot are wonderful.

Happy Father’s Day.




This Year.


It’s clear,

this tear,

it is falling in fear.


I’m here,

you’re near,

whispering in my ear.



that we’re,

my dear,

gonna get through this year.



we, my dear

are gonna get through this year.


by Jordan Garratt


Praying for a Miracle

So we got the results.

Its ‘contained‘.

Contained means the same…..no bigger, no smaller.


But you are better than before. No pain. Eating well. Reduced medication.

So that’s great right?

It’s what I was waiting for, what we were hoping for, wasn’t it?


Then….. why did I feel like I got punched in the stomach when I read your text?


Maybe I am still praying for a miracle, but missing the real miracle taking place?

You are alive and with us still. It’s been ten weeks after they initially told us you had eight weeks to live. Not only that, but you are doing so well.

This is the miracle. Its happening right before our eyes. Its beautiful and pretty damn cool to be a part of.

I am thankful that we have been blessed with more weeks,

more days

and more minutes.


…. Of course I will not stop praying for a miracle, but when doing so I will also try to remember to stand back and admire these everyday miracles we have been granted.


The ‘C’ Word

So it’s been eight weeks since my Dad received the news he had eight weeks to live. I had guessed the C word would come up, I wasn’t surprised by that, I just didn’t think his time left would be measured in weeks. Such a small unit of time.

At first I was more sad than I ever knew possible. Usually I allowed myself this time when driving. I just wailed at the sadness of all this. Balling that he was being taken from us. That lasted two days, I haven’t done that since. 

After that I felt centimental about everything my Dad was a part of, I didn’t want to throw anything away that was a piece of him. Used train tickets, cards, unused video clips… Almost like if I collected enough objects I could preserve my Dad, but life isn’t Harry Potter and horcruxes don’t work in real life. 

Since then I just want to listen to my Dad, soak him all in. Learn his views about things that matter to him. After all he is a very wise man. He can live through me. 

So eight weeks on. The chemo seems to be giving us time, and quality time together too. My Dad is currently in little pain and coping amazingly. Everyday he is finding the joys in life, but he always has. He is very peaceful about death, I am now too. This is something he has taught me these past two months.

You can not be angry about something you can not change, it doesn’t help. Instead accept that death happens everywhere all of the time. In fact it is our only guarantee in life.

 I am thankful it has to happen this way. This way we have time to share and laugh and prepare. I feel blessed. I feel lucky. If my Dad has to die, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

We are being looked after through kind words, prayers and dinners. For this I am also thankful. We are hopeful that we will have more quality time. We are also peaceful that when the time does come, we will be cacooned with the support our friends are already showing us.