Today is my lovely Dad’s 69th birthday, we’ve bought him gifts, we’ve got him cards but apart from a small cake, we won’t be celebrating in as much style as I’d like to.
Today is the 9th anniversary of my sister Tracy passing away. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like nine years since I had that phone call at work, from Mum who was standing in the car park at
Leicester, red raw with
emotion and running on sorrow and fear and grief. Other times it does - we now have Dude, Lucy
and baby Milly, Sarah is married to Chris, we’re back in Rothwell - but neither
state seems or feels right.
Today I shall celebrate the life of my Dad, who is the nicest, kindest man I know and I shall mourn the passing of my sister, who was my constant companion - and often bitter enemy - through my childhood.
Most of all, I’ll give thanks to the fact that I’m part of a loving, warm and incredibly supportive family, who picked me up when I needed it and allowed me to try and pick them up when they needed it too. Happy birthday to my Dad, a million hugs and kisses and warm thoughts to my beloved Mum & Dad on this day and a hug to my sister, gone but never forgotten.
Us outside Madame Tussauds, March 2003 (Sarah didn't make the trip)