Loss...

The 

January, 2015.

When I found out my Dad's cancer returned the day after my Uncle John had died then, if you're me, you glimpse the irony of life. The timing couldn't be worse, but then it's the way it's supposed to be.

I make a big thing about trying my utmost to not judge others. I've always found religion and spirituality encapsulating. I'm really bad at 'joining things' I suppose, but I do take things from them. I constantly keep on about it but; Matthew: Chapter 7, Verses 1 & 2 are my favourite part of my favourite book. I find it's one of the easiest paths to the most graceful of minds. I'm not there yet, but it helps me.

I liked my Uncle John an awful lot - but my Dad was really close to both him and his big sister (my Aunt Ann) when he was growing up, and we all shared holidays together when my sister and I were very young too, up until we were teenagers. Both he and my Dad always used to take the mickey out of my what were then perceived to be 'idealistic left-wing political tendencies'. Obviously, those tendencies never left me but nor did my Uncle John or Dad's sense of humour. They'd both laugh hysterically at the way I'd always bit back at him about economics, the Miner's Strike and equality because he knew I'd always bite back at him. That was the way our family was and is. Always will be. If you give it, have the grace to take it. With a smile, as well. Don't take yourself too seriously.

My Dad. It crippled me. The second we all thought he'd beaten 'The Big C' it seemed to come back like an irritating southern Manchester United 'fan'.

For a while after my parents split up on Christmas Day 2003, my Dad and I didn't get on. To be honest we both didn't make life easy for ourselves. I know my Dad saw my Mum in me, not least because of the way I look and because of the angst I got some of the blame. Or at least that's how it felt to me. I know my Mum had to do what she had to do "that Christmas" for her health but boy was she driven to it and boy was it Hell for everyone. It wasn't Mum's fault. It was the world's worst miscommunication. All round, from all parties from where I was stood. Nobody was happy. Everyone was shocked. Everyone was hurt. Some of us were really, really broken. It was a difficult time for a ridiculously close family to have a ridiculously difficult break up. We're all still ridiculously close, too. Nobody upsets any of us without repercussions it seems.

It was just one of those times that the glass had to shatter because nobody was ready to catch it at the time. If it didn't shatter then, it would have done later on.

But that's the point about us; our family has always had comedic timing. We're a very funny bunch. My Nan died a day before my Mum and Dad's wedding anniversary, presumably so that they then had to remember her! In fact, my Nan died the night before my Maths GCSE exam. I don't recall sitting it at all because I was so upset. I aced it and got an A. Really, Nan?? Don't tell me we don't have Guardian Angels watching over us.

I keep using the present tense when talking about Dad. It's still raw. My Dad is a passionate, loving and ultra loyal man. The man is a living lesson in how to treat people. He sticks by those who don't see him wrong. I'm bloody sure that, as 'The Son', I was duty bound to have pissed him off and gone against the grain at some point, despite my recollection to the contrary. I am, however, happy and absolutely convinced that my sister took the biscuit more than me but that was always her charm and still is. Basically, she'd get caught where I wouldn't! God forbid anyone that upsets my niece Grace when she's at school!!

My Dad loved what he loved - that was and always will be my Mum. Despite everything, that's what has never changed. He doesn't know it, but that's always been his inspiration to me. No matter how hard it was for him, he carried on loving Mum because that's how he felt. Why would you lie to yourself? Be honest and true to yourself. And he has been. I've always been a ridiculous contradiction compared to my Dad. He's very straight forward, honest and borderline blunt with people, yet not very confident in his own opinions on an intellectual level - which is silly given his background. I've always been cagey and cautious yet very confident in my opinions. 

He's the sort of bloke I'd want as my best mate if I were in his peer group. If there's a crisis - he's there, and he's very calm. End of. A Policeman to the end. He constantly takes the piss but he can take it. If you're daft enough to bite back then you get it both barrels. You quickly learn.

He's was let down and yet he's been very loyal to some people. Too loyal. Some people were always going to let him down because I knew they would. My sister knew they would. False prophets are everywhere, but aren't they for everyone?

The only thing I know is that I miss him - like a table needs legs.

God (or insert your own higher power wherever necessary) never gives you more than you can handle, so the analogy goes. It sounds very comforting and very fine...until it's your Dad or Mum sat there looking nervous and upset, knowing they're about to die.

I'm not sure how I'll ever react to anything anymore. When I was growing up I had four rocks; my  Granddad, my Nan, Mum and Dad. In my thirty-something years I've rather carelessly lost three of them. It wasn't exactly my fault, but it transpired somebody needed them more than me and so He took them. I don't cope well with the lending process.

Love is a strong, often wasted word.

But I love my Dad.