
I am who I am because of my Father and I will always be grateful that this apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, not far at all. I am proud to be my Father’s daughter ever since I realized how much I actually admire and respect him. We are so alike it is scary. We have the same sense of humour, the love of sport, hard work and we are as stubborn as each other. My Father has taught me to believe in myself and my dreams, never to forget where we come from and be proud of your achievements no matter how small. Yet even He could not have prepared me for the heartache of losing him.
It has been over 3 years since my Father very suddenly died and I’m still struggling to comprehend that I will not be able to give him a hug or climb another mountain or play chess with him ever again. Every time I think of him, every time I am being reminded of him, I feel a stab in my heart. I long to speak to him, to see his wonderful cheery face and blue eyes, I long to tell him how his grandchildren have grown and how happy we are with our success of climbing the 3 peaks in the summer. I miss him, I miss him with all of my being, so I will write about him to keep him alive for me and for my boys.



