‘I might, in fact, feel a bit sad forever, but that’s the way it is with dead dads, I guess’ The doormat outside my mother’s little house at her retirement village is the wrong way round, so it’s only when you’re on your way out that it says “welcome”. Mum hasn’t noticed probably. Her eyes aren’t what they used to be. Still, she knew it was me coming in the door and was very pleased to see me.
I’d come to Christchurch for Dad’s birthday. He’d have been 93 and, a year and a half after his death, I still feel sad about losing him. I might, in fact, feel a bit sad forever, but that’s the way it is with dead dads, I guess, especially good ones like mine.…
