Goodbye, Dad

It has been such a busy few months, that I have not had time to properly reflect on my Dad's passing.

In February, just after I had taken the decision to retire but when I was still snowed under with work, I got a call from Dr Gray's Hospital in Elgin to say that my Dad had been admitted and was in a serious condition.   He was in a 'do not resuscitate' regime.

I flew straight up to Aberdeen and was at his bedside late that day.   He was perfectly lucid and pleased to see me.  But he was also very frail.   I stayed with him for the next 48 hours as he slowly slipped away and on Monday February 18th he died.  He was 96 years old and had had a good life.  The last few months were challenging for him, and he was ready to go.

My Dad was born in Plymouth on 1 July 1916 - the first day of the battle of the Somme.  He came up to Scotland in 1947 and stayed there ever since.  We had the funeral service in Keith and I was pleased by how many people came along, even though most of his friends had died over recent years.

His passing marks the end of an era - the end of a generation in my family.

This week I have been going through old photographs trying to put them in some sort of order and into albums.  But of course this has not been easy; each photo captures a moment in his life and each photo cased me to reflect on that life.

Rest in Peace, Dad.    I am grateful to you for so much.