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.

Becoming a Foster Mum

I started my interview process with our Form F assessor today. She is lovely and very easy to chat to. 

She asked all about my upbringing and struggles and adult life and relationships. It was intimate and invasive, but it was fine. 

In fact it was more than fine. I felt excited listening to her talking about what our children may be like and how we could support them. 

It is feeling more real now. Like we’re actually going to be parents. Like we will actually be entrusted with a child to love and care for. 

It feels right. 

I hope I am not being naive. I hope I am strong enough. I hope Jim is ready. I hope we make good parents. 

I suppose these are normal hopes for any soon-to-be parents to have. 

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.