I'm sat on the big brown leather sofa, the only sounds are that of the dog dreaming and the heating (which is set to "surface of the sun") kicking in. The sky is grey and I can hear the wind howling.
My Dad was my world. I was a "Daddy's Girl" without doubt. In 1987, I got up early as I was planning on going to Goodison Park for the match. As I walked into the living room, I saw my Dad sat in his chair. I thought he was asleep and tried to rouse him to see if he wanted a cup of tea. He was ice cold and didn't wake up. Most of the next few weeks, including his funeral, is missing from my memory. I have snippets of memories, but I guess I've just stored it away as it is too painful to deal with, even now!
Last week, my Mum and I went to "see" my Dad in the cemetery. For some strange reason, we took a different route out of the cemetery. We tried to find her Mums grave to no avail, so we got back in the car and carried on round the only way we could. On the left was a large sandstone headstone with names carved into it. One name jumped out at me - it was my maiden name, including my initial!
We got out of the car and I ran my finger over the name just to double check as you couldn't actually read it properly due to it being so weathered. It turned out to be a relative who served on HMS Bullfinch, and died at the age of 32. I'm still researching it but it's turning up all kinds!
Now comes the even stranger bit. I spoke to my Dad at his grave and told him that I miss him every day and would give anything just to be able to see him again. This morning, as I was getting ready to head to the War Memorial for the 2 minutes silence, I was watching the Remembrance Week programme on BBC1. I was watching Albert Pond talking about El Alamein and Montgomery. I knew that my Dad had served there with him, but we know very little as he didn't talk about it much. We have a couple of pictures but that's it.
Suddenly, there was a picture on the tv screen of 6 Soldiers, 3 standing by and 3 sitting on a tank. One of those men is my Dad! I'm crying now as I type this. I've just called the BBC to see if I can get a copy of the photograph. They gave me an adress to write to to see if they can give me a copy. A chance comment by a friend suggested that I try the Imperial War Museum, as she thought that they supply the BBC with pictures. I called them and spoke to a lovely lady called Rita. She is going to see if it's one of theirs. I can't thank her enough! I currently have the frame paused on the iPlayer and still can't believe he's looking at me.
I guess he must have heard me ask to see him once more.
