So I wanted to dedicate this post to my Dad, and really Dad’s in general. This week my Dad’s autoimmune disease has decided to rear its ugly head again, and I was going to write a post on disease and doctors and all those depressing things. Then I realized I didn’t want the internet just to see my Dad as a sick man, I want you all to know how great he is, how much joy he has brought his family, how much joy he still brings, and will hopefully continue bringing for years to come.
When he came home from work when we were little he used to play with us the moment he was through the door, lifting us in the air and tickling us. If Mum told him we had been being naughty, he would try and be stern and it would last only a few minutes, before asking if we wanted to play hide and seek. We would go and hide while Dad got changed out of his work clothes and into jeans and a t-shirt, and he would then start the hunt, always saying the line from Jack and the beanstalk “Here I come…I smell the blood of an Englishman, be he alive or be he dead, I’ll have his bones to grind for my BREAD”. Generally as our hiding places were behind the curtains with our toes poking out, or in bed trying to be as flat as possible, he would then pounce on us on the word bread. I’m honestly surprised there were not more peeing incidents because when you heard those words you would be terrified, trying frantically to control your breathing so your fearful panting didn’t give you away, either that or the nervous giggling!
Another game he used to play with us was called ‘rocky balboa’ – a reference I never got until I was a lot older. Bath-time on Sunday’s used to be Dad’s job. Now mostly this must have been torture for him. He would have all three of us in the bath, and would first wash the baby before the weekly drama that was hair washing. The no tears shampoo was such a lie, and he was never that careful, meaning there was always a crying incident. We would then be wrapped in towels with our ‘hair towels’ over our eyes, and he would carry us (pretty much dripping wet) through the house. We would always ask where we were going and insist “we’re going to your room aren’t we Daddy?!” which he would deny, and we would, without fail, believe every week. He would then sit on the edge of my parents bed with one of us in each arm, and throw himself backwards then sit back up repeatedly, always saying “rocky” on the way down and “balboa” as he sat back up. And how we laughed.
Another of his jobs was the bedtime story. Mum was good at stories, but she never did the voices, Dad did low voices for the baddies, noble voices for the goodies, and sometimes a high pitched squeal for a princess in distress, which I know he would have been embarrassed about if anyone else had heard! His job was also to walk the dog. We have had a dog for most of my life – first Blue, then Star and now Sky. All German Shepherds because they’re my Dad’s favorite, despite (or perhaps because) the fact that they are all nutters! Anyway, this meant if you wanted to go for a walk too you could go with Dad. There’s never any pressure to talk with Dad, and if you went to walk the dog with him you were assured some quality time.
Although he wanted daughters and was overjoyed when he got three, I think he also would have been great with sons just from the relationship he has with his nephews. I was always proud that my Dad is obviously seen as the best uncle in the family. I think he will also be a brilliant Granddad especially when you factor in the fact that he will be able to spoil them in a way he was never allowed to spoil us, and the fact that he will never have to discipline them! I also hope that one of us has twins, Dad always wanted twins, so I hope maybe one of us will give him twin grandchildren!
He’s not just a great dad/potential granddad either, but a good husband. In some ways he is too lazy and takes advantage of my Mum – he doesn’t really do much around the house, he can’t (and doesn’t even try to) cook. But he always remembers to make little gestures so my Mum feels like she is appreciated, and he is the king of surprises, he has taken her on mini-holidays before purposely not for an occasion just so she feels special. My parents met when they were in sixth form (17ish) and so in all their pictures you can see them literally grow up together. I know some people don’t get on with their inlaws, but my Mum’s family is literally my Dad’s family too. When he was in hospital the first time, the nurses believed my Mum’s Mum was my Dad’s Mum because she would visit him to often and treat him exactly as you would expect a woman to treat her son. My Dad is also pretty protective of my mum, if you say anything against her (in anger) he will defend her. You can joke about her bad habits, but if you say one word in anger or nastiness against her, he will get very angry at you.
He loves to ski, and still tries to keep up with me and my sisters. He also loves the same books as me, which is very useful as it means I can buy the first of a series, lend it to him, and he will then buy all the others to read! He is tall with green eyes, and thinning hair, which is sad because it used to be a mop. He is skinny, but with a weird kind of beer belly. I think his shape is caused by the mediation he is on because he goes jogging two or three times a week for about an hour and a half to two hours. He also loves Spurs football club and has supported them forever.
Sorry it was such an essay, but once I started writing some things, more things I could say about him just came flooding into my head, and the love I have for him started flowing into my heart. So if you are religious (any religion), please pray for him. If you are not, please have him in your thoughts.