A Cheesy Tribute

Mourning the loss of her beloved father, Ron, SAM WOULIDGE eases her grief while also honouring her dad with many helpings of his favourite toasted cheese

My dad is dead. And without him the world feels unsafe. I had a terrible feeling of foreboding the week before my father died. In those last pre-hospital days I found myself being unable to breathe when I was close to him. The agony of loss had already entered my world and filled me with isolating, crippling terror. My son, Seb, was different; he stayed close to his grandpa. During those last days at my dad’s beach house, Seb would sit for hours next to him at the long dining room table that was covered with files and paperwork. My father was, we now know, leaving us pages of detailed notes and instructions, and Seb sat at his side drawing pages of intricately detailed campervans. Later I found them watching cricket, Seb sitting behind my dad on the back of the sofa and running his hands through his grandpa’s silver hair. They swam in the pool. They sat in the sauna. They ate ice cream. They laughed. While I struggled to breathe.