Death. Its one of those things that's really final. No more to pass go, collect £200. No Do Over's. No come backs, no final countdown. Its pretty much MORE the end, than finding you've got to the bottom of a packet of Cadbury's clusters. And the emotional fall out is pretty heavy as well. (The death not the clusters)
And this is where I find myself sitting. A week on from the passing of my wonderfully brave father who lost his battle to lung and brain cancer on the 8th October at 8:12am Saturday morning. He is gone. Completely. Everything that made him walk, talk, tick and move has been removed from this earth in the short space of a last exhale. And it is the most painful shockingly sad thing I've experienced to date. However. We become so entrenched in the death of someone, so locked into that final moment or moments leading up to it that we seemingly forget the actual life that person led. The fun the laughter, the mad mad moments. Believe it or not it was writing my fathers eulogy that reminded me of this fact. My Father was Fucking funny. Don't get me wrong, he could be a cantankerous old badger who could be so momentously grumpy you would be hard pushed to not want to kick him in the knackers. H A R D........ And sometimes he created moments where you would genuinely want to suffocate him with a pillow. He had a temper that could light a rocket, and an arse that Sadam himself would have wanted to patent and use against us.