I took Dad with me, what has now become my 'Dad in a box'.
No its not my Fathers ashes, I didn't put him beside me on the table, as in the hilarious episode of 'The Royal Family - Joe's Crackers' where Joe takes Mary's ashes round to dinner at Jim and Barbra's and they get knocked off the dining table and hoovered up with the new Dyson (Dad would have laughed till he cried at that)
No, its a box that my Father kept beside his bed, a tiny box that he made as a young man, a treasured possession of his and now mine. My daughter went through a magpie faze when she was little and i found the box in her room one day, she had obviously brought it back from an overnight stay at Nan and Grandad's house. I didn't tell her off, not this time, I just put the box inside my treasure box and now I treasure it very much indeed. Inside it there are 3 folded up photographs that obviously meant a great deal to my Dad, one of which is of him before his disease, the face I remember as a little girl. Sometimes it makes me smile, sometimes it breaks my heart, usually its both.
So there I was, a girl without a Father on Father's Day for the first time. It was an odd feeling and odder still that no-one mentioned it, no-one asked, phoned or texted to see if i was ok about it. Except one person, my daughter, who had tried without success to engage with her Father that day. Another girl without a Father on Father's day.
I have always taken the road of trying to make light of his lack of interest in his children since the divorce, along the lines of "daddy loves you very much, hes just not a parenty type person that's all" but I suddenly realised that we now had a common bond, my daughter and I, that I had never appreciated before, different perspectives but the same pain. Something good came out of the day after all, I'll make more of the day next year, me and her together for the both of us.
photograph taken in my garden, it reminds me of a funny story Dad would tell about snails, me and a dead cat but thats another story........