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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