Last week – on the 27th January – it was two years since Dad died. Which kind of does my head in because that whole time is still pretty vivid and feels very current. Not only the weeks leading up to his death but the year before it when we were dealing with hospitals and aged care homes and lots of arseholes in the medical profession that left me wondering why they actually picked it as a profession when they obviously don’t give a shit.
Last year Australia Day was pretty shitty – that’s the 26th – I felt a bit antsy and anxious the whole week leading up to it because it was such a shit time back then but this year it was okay. That’s what happens isn’t it – you live, you die and the world keeps turning and that’s just the way it is and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Obviously I’m sad about him dying but what bothers and upsets me the most is the undignified end you seem to end up coming to not matter how marvellous your life before that was.
It’s a shame he won’t be around for my 50th birthday because that would have been pretty cool – to see your baby turn 50. Actually I’m sure he would have found it much more of a laugh than I’m going to.
Here is a photo of him as a young man with two of his best friends – he’s in the middle. This was taken the night before he set sail from his island home of Guernsey to travel to the other side of the world (or the arse end of the world) Australia, to start a new life.
I’m glad he had that adventurous spirit and set sail that day. Lol, that’s kind of crazy how that’s my Dad, who ended up being a farmer in central NSW.