Today is Dad's birthday. He would have been 57. He died four weeks ago today.
It was a very sad day, as you would expect. My mum wanted to scatter Dad's ashes at a place he used to fish near the Firth of Clyde. She wanted to "put him somewhere he'd been happy" and somewhere near the sea. Fair enough. The fact that it was his birthday upon which we chose to undertake this task was, in all honesty, somewhat of a coincidence - more a matter of timing and opportunity than anything else (or perhaps it was fate). We scattered Dad's ashes early in the morning. Oddly for Scotland, it was a warm and sunny day.
My husband and I thereafter visited the Crematorium Garden of Remembrance later in the afternoon to leave two bunches of flowers and a birthday card I'd made for Dad. I hadn't visited the Garden of Remembrance before and I wasn't sure what to expect. I was initially unsure about leaving a card, thinking no-one else would do that kind of thing. My husband was not particularly encouraging either and I could understand his viewpoint. We weren't sure. I eventually decided I didn't care either way as I wanted to give Dad his birthday card and I had nowhere else to leave it. As it transpired, I needn't have worried - the Garden of Remembrance was full of flowers, teddy bears and cards. It was a very sad and moving experience, but I'm glad I've found somewhere I can visit Dad in future. There were lots of memorial plaques on the walls around the Garden of Remembrance and I'm going to arrange one for Dad within the next few weeks. We read some of the memorials and many referred to children or young adults who had died very prematurely. It is as though we have been thrust into a whole new world; a sad but realistic world where death does not spare the young. It is not that I am unfamiliar with death and illness, as we have had lots of "events" in my family, including my brother's leukaemia diagnosis when he was aged 2 and I was aged 8, the death of my grandparents and the recent death of two cousins (one aged 30 and one aged 34). Having said that, it is very difficult to envisage yourself in the position of losing someone so close to you; I now know that there is no way to comprehend what that is really like unless you actually experience it yourself - although that is not something I would wish for anyone. I miss my Dad every day, many times per day. I am scared I will eventually forgot small details about him, but thus far I have not. His memory is very firmly in my mind.
I wish my Dad had been here to celebrate his birthday. I appreciate he had said that he didn't want to celebrate this year, as his birthday was also the first anniversary of the death of my cousin (aged 34; his eldest sister's only daughter). Having said that, I'm sure we would have done something to celebrate even in a minor way and we always bought him a birthday cake each year and asked him to blow out the candles! It would have been nice for him to have had the choice, although that was not to be. I would never have guessed we'd be in this position. Nor would he. I am really struggling to believe that he didn't live to see his 57th birthday. I see people much older than him hobbling around and I wonder what my Dad did to deserve this... although I know it is not that simple.
I can't believe that my Dad won't have any more birthdays (except in our hearts and minds, as he will certainly live on in that regard). I am sad for my Dad. He had so much to see and do; he had retirement plans and those have been stolen from him. I feel he worked so hard all his days but got very little in return - and that causes me great pain. I am so sad for him.
