Untitled (Or the difficulty in finding a suitable title)



This Sunday 8th March would have been my father’s 70th birthday.

As I write this, two days to go, I keep wondering how it will feel waking up on that day, not able to call him and wish him a Happy Birthday and joke about how he is still a spring chicken.  And tell him I love him and feel so blessed and proud to be his daughter.

Daddy always used to joke that even though he had 4 women in his life- my mum, my two older sisters and myself- in his house, 8th March was his day.  And of course it was.  But that never stopped him from celebrating the women in his life.

A large part of who I am as a woman- my self-worth, self-respect, being a LADY- I learned from my father.  I value myself because he valued me.  I know what I deserve, and expect, from my man, because of how I saw my father treat my mother.

So much as I will be celebrating the amazing women in my life and women around the world this Sunday, I will also be celebrating and honouring my wonderful father.  Feeling the heaviness of his loss, but embracing the blessing of being his daughter and having had him in my life as long as I did.

I love you Pops.  




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