11 days later, on the 18th June Dad passed away, aged 95. He had gone downhill since my last visit and, with not too far to fall, staff and family had agreed that morning he was in his last few days and I would travel down to be with him at the end. As I boarded my flight that evening the latest reports in his care notes state that he was contented and stable. As I got off the plane I got messages from the care home and my brother to say he was fading fast. So I raced off the flight, met my brother, and we hurtled across from Luton to Oxford in record time. We arrived at 23.50. He had passed at 23.45. No one saw that coming so quick - I guess he wanted it that way. No fuss. His dad went like that too.
A week later and I start to remember his life well-lived. His very humble beginnings where Spaghetti Junction now stands. His years of caring for Mum. His flirtatious and cheeky sense of humour. His ability to sniff out when something wasn't quite right. His fondness for dessert. His knowledge on many topics and his love of giving advice or fixing things. But most of all I'll miss him just being my Dad. Always there, always dependable. A fairly simple man. Not caring for a fuss but just liking a job done simply and well.
Thank you Dad for bringing me up in this world. For teaching me the value and joy in little, simple things. Thank you for the many smiles and happiness that you brought to me and many others. I'll miss you, but you're now with Mum again.
So here I am. The oldest generation. Not sure I'm quite ready but I've got Dads old rubber mallet, his Christmas tie, some wonderful memories, and I've hopefully still got a few years to learn.
