Monday, 4 February 2013

Every day.

This morning I woke up and the day started. I got my older child up, I made her lunch, I saw her off to school. I got the small one up. I made her porridge. I looked at Facebook, to see what was happening. And everything was okay. Yet, I saw his name on the right hand side. Not online. No longer there.

I then had breakfast. I got showered and took my baby to a music class. We had a brilliant time. I drove the car there, and chatted to a friend. It never crossed my mind again until later when I heard someone sing. The singer's voice reminded me of him. He had a lovely voice. No longer there.

And then almost a whole day passed without thinking about him. Because, you see, it has almost been a year since he passed away. Almost a whole year. And then my baby said "Daddy?" when someone knocked on the door. 'No', I said, 'Not yet. Too early. He is still at work'.

But the actual word was a reminder. Made me think of my daddy. Gone. Not at work, but forever now.  How is that possible?

EVERY TIME I say Daddy, which happens so often when you have children yourself, I think of my father. I try to say it in English, as it sounds different. I don't use the word papa in Russian. Not to remind myself again. Yet, somehow, my brain is quick at translating: They have a daddy. You don't have one anymore.

It has almost been a year.


  1. It's been 35 years already since my dad passed way. Too many time, so little memories of him. I can tell you there is no single day I don't think of him. Not one... in 35 years.
    I can tell you I don't have an answer as to how it was possible or simply why.

  2. I have realized lately that our parents live on in us and our children. I know it sounds cliche but I have come to realize this recently for myself. As I grow older, I look more like my late mom. Even when I show the pictures of her when she was around my age to my 4 year-old son, he thinks it's me (even though growing up I looked like my dad). I also noticed recently that on some of my son's pictures, he looks like my mom on her childhood pictures. The funny way our genes work. And I suppose it is true that our loved ones are alive in some immaterial form for as long as they are remembered.

    1. And I firmly believe they are rejoiced when the younger generations get to know them through our memories and stories.