Bittersweet Joy

Most days are good and some are not, but there is not a single day that goes by that I do not think about my Dad.  I think about my Mum most days too but the pain is not as red raw.  It is there and it hurts like hell but I suppose I have had a lot longer to live with that reality.  The other day I received a notification that I had a parcel and I was so excited as was not expecting one.  The mail room at school opens at  a certain time and I was anxiously awaiting it to open when a more senior teacher who I don't know so well came to get his parcel.  He asked if I was waiting for something exciting and I said I was not sure what it was.  And he casually said maybe I am lucky and it was a care package from home, from the folks.  It was honestly like someone punched me in the stomach and I struggled not to blurt out that this was not possible as they are dead.

In the last week two of Dad friends have reached out to us which is so nice.  Colleen, who Dad adored, today sent this photo of my sisters old bedroom, now done up for the new owners little girl.  It is so lovely to see it looking so nice and I know Dad would just be so proud that house looks so nice but goodness it is a bittersweet joy to say the least.

(and to add insult to injury the parcel was an insurance bill)