2 September. B is a fabulous father. He encourages and enables. He loves Kate and Jem with every inch of his being. He believes so absolutely in them. He helps them to laugh at themselves. He helps them to be themselves. He teaches them to be kind, compassionate, patient, dedicated, genuine, authentic and fair. And funny. Because that’s who he is. I am grateful for the wonderful father the girls have, but I’m also just grateful for B. He does this for me too. Except for the funny bit. I’m just not.
I love my dad. He is genuinely the world’s best dad. Growing up he guided us with so much love and tolerance, now that I have my own kids I am in awe of his patience. He was kind, he was firm and he was fair. He never shouted at us, but we knew when he was displeased. He treated us with utmost respect and care, so much so that we grew up in a solid, safe and kind world. He made us believe that we mattered. He always had time for us. No time, no matter how much pressure he was under, was a bad time.He loved and loves my mom, which is probably the best gift any father can give his kids. To love and respect their mother. And yes vice versa. He made us believe we were good enough to do anything we set our minds to. He never made me feel I had disappointed him. Ever. He always told me when things got too much, not to panic, because panic or not, the outcome will be the same. I was blessed to grow up in a world with my dad as my father. I still am. He’s still making me believe I can do anything. That my attitude, my will is everything. Well Dad, right back at you.
Today I was relieved to hear my dad had had a successful prostrate op. Third time lucky. And a good night in ICU. I am so grateful to him for looking after his health and fitness all these years. I wish I could be there. I wish I could hug him. But spending a quiet moment, having a flat white with him, on a bench on his favourite river, was the best I could do. So I am grateful for the memory of him here, because it felt like he was right there with me.