The 19th of March 2010 was a day I feared... It was the day of my father's funeral. It was a month after his passing and I still hadn't fully accepted that he was gone. Saying farewell would be accepting it and speaking about him in past tense, which I hadn't been able to do at that point. But I made myself strong and was able to hold it together for most of the beautiful service me and my mother and brother had planned. Grief is such a private thing but at a funeral you're "supposed" to let it show, if only for a bit. I have never had any problems in showing my emotions but this day I felt I wanted to keep it a beautiful goodbye day. With my dad watching from within the church (not having fully left yet) seeing us being strong and happy to have each other so he wouldn't have to worry about us.
My cousin played a favourite song he used to whistle "La vie en rose" on her violin, a lady sang an altered (by me and my brother) version of "Goodbye my lover" - a goodbye from Mum, and me and my brother held a speech for dad. It was a beautiful service by the priest that also helped out on the preschool me and my brother went to as kids. Such a good priest who can really connect with people even if you're not a Christian or religious of any kind.
This day was tough but not as tough as I had thought. The tough part of it all will always be to get used to a life where my father isn't present. It gets easier with time but the pain doesn't go away. You just learn how to live with it.
Always missed, never forgotten.
Love you forever, my hero, my role model, my dearest dad. Pappa.
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