The Sad Sunday

A day I will never forget nor understand

The 2nd of March comes every year, and each time it does, I tell myself that next year will be different. But it isn't. I miss my Dad every day, each event in the family I wish he was here to share. He would be such a fabulous great Grandfather as he was the best Pop my 2 could have had.

The entire Marks Point Primary School was devastated when "Poppy" went, so popular and well known over there was he. To watch Micheal's entire class in tears the day he returned to school was devastating and he came home again, his teacher (who had also taught me) was also in tears. We never knew how much time he had spent on "playground duty" and had assumed he was just out or working.

I should have known he would not let Michael out of his sight for those intolerably long school hours!

As the first grandson, Michael was rather the "Apple of his eye" and even looked like dad. My neighbour used to call him Little Stan, so close was the resemblance. Every Little Athletics, each swimming carnival, sports event, if not working, he was there and it took a lot to keep him on the side lines most days. 

They had an amazing relationship and for that I am eternally grateful.

 The playing of  tennis racket guitar singing "Mr Bojangles" or "Yellow Submarine"  went on for hours, even though Dad never learnt the words he was quite happy to be the smiling musical accompaniment.

The riding of broom horses with their Fire Chief hats on was the favourite outdoor activity.

Melissa on the other hand,  never the cuddly child, was too busy doing "stuff" but loved Pop no less. Just didn't have time to stop for "mushing" for anyone.

As a result of Dad's stubborn streak he kept on trying until she nick named him

"Bucket Head",

( well he did try everything including Bill and Ben impressions, hence the name stuck.)

He then resigned himself to the fact that one on his knee and the other jabbering at his feet was a good thing.

The other member of the family was Melissa's cat. Now Dad didn't like animals (yeah right!)  A sneaky look through the window and he was sure to be seen patting the cat while it helped him with the laundry. To hear him talk of the "Castrated Cat" you would be forgiven for thinking it was not long for this world. A true softy at heart with an exterior that looked tough until he smiled.

So on the 2nd March he was found outside the laundry 

sitting on a Fire Hat,

his head on a bucket

and the "Castrated Cat" sitting under the clothes line.

He was gone.

So was life as I knew it.

All the Doctors/Coroners words of Myocardial Infarction, Atherosclerosis and Coronary Thrombosis all still meant that something the size of a sausage had tried to pass through his heart.

Being told a zero chance at living through it in Coronary Care Unit with all staff available were no consolation.

He wasn't coming back.

if only he was here 

to see Michael in the mines, successful at his chosen career of Diesel mechanic

 

if only he were here

to see Melissa married caring for his great Grandson 

and the 2 on the way

if only he were here

to help Mum through her twilight years

if only he were here

if only he were here