I’m so fortunate to have had an abundance of happy and cherished memories with Dad.
I recently spoke with an older person who pointed out how lucky I was to have come from such supportive roots; no wonder I was perfectly content setting up my own business or moving to Spain and doing these various traipsings because I always had the backing of my parents.
As a young ‘un, they came to all my matches. I kid you not, but I can only recall one time I travelled in another team member’s car. And that wasn’t even to a match - that was to trials!
My dad was quite the animated character on the sideline, whether taking over the managerial role and offering new points of view on where I should be on the pitch or swearing if we “missed a sitter.”
If we lost, he’d be there to wrap his arm around me with care, a cigarette burning away in his free hand, and saying, “You played a blinder” or “Today wasn’t meant to be your day, but ye’ll be back,” or else “Ah don’t be crying now” because he was an Irish man of a particular generation who couldn’t express their emotions properly!
When I step outside our family home, Dad can be seen everywhere. He loved making hay every summer in our beautiful 7-acre field surrounding the house. The garden birds chirping, whose types he could list off like his children.
The four apple trees around the focal point of the garden—our proud and tall cherry blossom tree—all the beautiful garden plants and flowers Mam set and he watered and weeded. His pride and joy were our lovely grassy lawns, which he religiously cut on any fine day.
He had not one but two sheds full of gardening tools and his fourth child, who was in the form of a Massey Ferguson 1970s tractor. His fairy fort back the road by the railway tracks, where he almost died when the tractor got stuck in the tracks and a train was fast approaching. He wasn’t getting off that tractor until it was clear of the tracks! Thankfully, he lived to tell the tale, although I wonder if that was one of his more embellished bedtime stories!
We also recently learned that along these tracks, his father used to keep a vegetable patch. When Dad was a kid, he used to work in the garden, and the train driver would shoot past while roaring and mocking him. One day, Dad had had enough of these torments and flung a turnip at the conductor, smacking him square on the head! While he could take a joke, he had his limits, too!
When a loved one passes away, people always say, “Oh, I wish I could go back and hug them just once more.” And while I’d love that, or for Dad to tuck me in and tell me one more story about his childhood dogs, I have so many precious, silly memories to pick and choose from to carry me on my way.
While I feel aggrieved that I lost my dad at 28, he lost his mam at 13. I’m grateful I’ve had the chance to spend so much time with him and can reminisce on all these lovely moments together. I know he wouldn’t want me sitting at home on my arse crying and griping, so you best believe my 10k race entitled “Sevilla Personal 10k haha” on my Garmin Coach is still gung ho! He’s out there somewhere shouting at me from the sidelines again. :)