My dad, Harry, died just over three weeks ago and we buried him yesterday. He had just turned 75 a few days before his death. He even managed to blow out a candle on his birthday cake he was too ill to eat. He died of esophageal cancer which had spread to his lungs and liver.
My mum and dad had lived in Spain for a long time and had only recently come back to the UK which had made me very happy at the time. He was the physically fittest seventy odd year old I knew. We argued recently about who should go up the ladders to clean the gutters at his house and he won. It has been commented on that he was never happier than when he was stood mixing mortar to build a wall.Throughout my life he has always been busy building, making or fixing something.
I have been struggling to deal with this which is why things have been a bit quiet. I just don't know where to start off now. I do know that I need to start somewhere so when not here.
I usually do RIP blogs because I respected the person in life. My dad was the biggest character in my life, despite being separated by him living in Spain. I have a few promises to him that I will stick by and a few promises I have made to myself to keep his memory alive. I guess it's time to get on with getting on.