Dealing with losing a parent…

I always felt like my childhood stopped when I was 12. I remember the exact day, the 4th of January 1984, I walked into my father’s family house, my brother met me on the ground floor and announced, ‘Daddy is dead’.

That’s how I found out that the father I loved so much had passed away.

I doubt if my brother even remembers as he is younger than I but at that moment, I knew my world was never going to be the same again.

I went to the toilet and composed myself, walked up the stairs into a room full of people. I saw my Mum crying and my heart simply sank because I knew it was true, he had broken his promise to me.

You see, a few months before, I went to visit him in hospital as he had fallen ill and made him promise me that he wouldn’t die. He promised me that everything would be fine and he wouldn’t die yet here I was now all alone.

For years, I walked around hoping I would wake up from the nightmare. My life didn’t feel real to me because he was gone. I had dreams about him still being alive but would wake up to reality.

Life moved on as normal but I was sad inside and couldn’t express how I was feeling properly.

My dad was one of the kindest people I knew however as I grew up, I began to wonder if I had made his characteristics up in my mind.

One of my uncles recently asked me if I remember my dad and how lovingly he treated us (my siblings and I) and my heart jumped for joy because this was the confirmation I needed that he was the kind and loving father that made me feel safe and loved.

The pain is still there whenever I think about him but now I am grateful to God that I had a loving father for the first 12 years of my life.

Thank you for reading.

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