Today is the 8th anniversary of my wonderful dad passing away. Aged 81, he was still working with me every day before getting pneumonia, and the dreadful sepsis. It all happened very quickly, and the week he was ill, and in an induced coma, was too awful to describe.
I am no different to anyone who has lost a parent. I still miss him - the time seems to have flown by, and I strive to make him proud of me. He told Mum not long before he died that he had no regrets, and how happy he was with his family. I wish I could get to a place in life where I feel the same, but that is work in progress.
Last year he was joined by Mum and I am sure they are looking down on us with a glass in hand x