In Memory of My Father
A decade since my father died, and I felt a need to remember him in words.
The twenty-ninth of April. Ten years since I last saw my dad. Ten years and two days since I last heard his voice and knew that he heard me when I told him I loved him. I have not been able to tell him that I got a 2:1 in my degree (he died the day before my final, but it’s okay, as I hadn’t studied); that I passed my driving test first time round; that I got a real full-time job and discovered I’m not too bad at puppetry...
