14 years later

ON Monday, it had been 14 years to the day since my dad passed away. 13th June 2008. He’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer 10 months earlier, on the 31st August 2007. 14 years is a long time. I was only 13 when he lost his battle with cancer, and it now means I’ve lived more of my life without him than I did with him. That’s a strange feeling — as in reality, I feel like I lived barely any of my life with him.

Now I’m living quite a settled life, and 14 years have passed, I find myself reflecting more often on what could have been.

You get used to the standard practices of losing a parent — them not being there on your birthday, you not being able to celebrate their birthday…the big days when you wished more than anything they could be there. The day I found out about my A-level results and burst into tears. The day I graduated from University. The scary day of being diagnosed as Type 1 diabetic. The exciting day of going to Australia. Christmases. It all slowly becomes part and parcel, and the new normal. That doesn't mean it ever gets easier, you just get used to it.

In all honesty, I never really spent much time being sad about those things. It’s a hard feeling to describe. But as I’ve become a young adult, I think what I now miss the most is not having the chance of getting to know that person. When you grow up, your parents are your parents. As you start to build your own way in the world, you get to understand who your parents are as people. What makes them laugh, what makes them cry, their passions, their regrets, and their wisdom. You start to understand them. You start to understand the decisions they’ve made along the way. Mum and Dad are no longer labels, as you develop a relationship with them much more akin to deep friendship.

Losing a parent before you can appreciate that means you never get that chance.

Probably the toughest day was a few years ago on what would have been his 60th birthday. Knowing the happiness he would have felt to be turning 60 gave me quite a burning sense of injustice. He was only 49 when he passed away.

Although I’ve got some cherished memories, 13 years wasn’t enough time. The reality is I didn’t really know him as more than ‘dad’. Although it has been 14 years since that life-changing moment, it’s really only been the last few years where I’ve started to process and reflect on what happened. It’s led to some sad days, some happy days, and a big old mixture of feelings in-between.

With father’s day approaching (a day I usually ignore) I’ll be raising a glass to dad, and to the fantastic, remarkable man I’m sure he was.