Looking back at the time I got to spend with my dad Keith, I know I was lucky. Lucky I got to explore nature with him as a child, bond with him as an adult, and lucky to have had a dad who wasn't afraid of showing his emotions. He showered me and my older brother Nick with love and at 6ft 4in, I fondly referred to him as a gentle giant.
Dad loved animals and it became a shared passion of ours when I was growing up. In the garden, a pet shed housed rabbits and guinea pigs and in the house we kept hamsters. If Dad and I passed a pet shop together, he'd look at me and wink, and it took all of our willpower not to take home a new furry friend. Occasionally, we did and my mum Mary would roll her eyes watching as we cooed over a new rabbit hidden in a straw-filled box.
We always had two flat-coated retrievers at home, first Hewiee and Frankie, then Eddie, Nev and Berry. They say that a dog is a man's best friend and that was so true for Dad - he adored them. By the time I started secondary school in 1997, Dad had taken early retirement from his job as a graphic designer and each morning we woke up at 6:30am to take the dogs out together.
Every Father's Day was an opportunity to tell Dad how proud I was of him and I'd present him with a card telling him that my dad was the best there was. In 1999, Nick, then 18, moved out and for the next few years, it was just me, Mum, Dad and the dogs. I often confided in Mum about boys or any worries I might have had about school, but Dad was always there to offer advice too. When I first experienced heartache in my teens, he took me out for hot chocolate in a bid to try and cheer me up.
The only times I ever really saw Dad sad was when we lost our beloved pets. 'Just remember the good times,' he'd say.
Becoming confused
Denne historien er fra June 10, 2024-utgaven av WOMAN - UK.
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Denne historien er fra June 10, 2024-utgaven av WOMAN - UK.
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