My father died last night, I only found out this evening because my stepmother was waiting for me to get back from work in order to call me, and , bless her, it would have been a difficult day. Great sadness, but also relief that he would not suffer any further. He was ready to die, he didn't want the life he had any more, he was tired, and unhappy about the burden he was becoming to his loving wife, though she would never complain. A great, brilliant man, he has made his mark on this world, and I am sure will be remembered by many. Yes, often absent as a father, though as I grew older I understood more his incredible commitment to work, and the hours he spent there, rather than with us as children. I think I managed to make him proud of me, which was no mean feat with my father believe me! But I did and he was, and I'm glad. It was always important to me, and I think to him too, old school and all that!
Needless to say, although I only saw him rarely, it has been a year since I saw him last, I will miss him, because he is my father and he was always there, and I love him. Here I must stop can't write more just now.