It would've been my Father's 85th birthday on the 7th of September. He died aged 77.
This is one of my favourite photo's taken of the two of us.
He used to moan about me taking photos and putting them on 'that internet' then he'd ask all day if we had any likes and 'how many?'
I took this photo on the Sunday on our last day out together, he died on the Tuesday. I'm so grateful for the those last 3 days we spent together. I'm so grateful for being in the UK when he died. But I'll be honest, I'm still not grateful, 7 years on, that I was there when he died.
September is a sad month for me remembering my father and my gran. I still go to pick things up for them for their birthdays. The clock I bought my father for his birthday the year he died and I never got to give him has finally stopped working.
The second hand stopped working a month ago. I need to chuck it out, I don't want to be a hoarder like he was.
I still have the card, which sadly came true, along with emptying the sheds, the attic and several rooms.
There are times I pick up tea towels as souvenirs to give my gran, but put them back with a little sadness that she is no longer with us to give them to her, but I still use the tea towels she had daily, the tea towels she had pinned to the kitchen cupboard door that were given as gifts for her.
Whilst I feel sad, I'm also grateful to have these wonderful people in my life for as long as I did. For my children to have had a great grandmother they can remember spending time with and for them to have had a grandfather in their adult lives.