14 Jun What Father’s day means to me
Our family aired the tent out for the the first time this year. Last weekend we ventured to Portballintrae- the same area where I holidayed as a child with my Mum and my brother.
Walking my lads down to the harbour, holding their hand as they tip toed the high wall and ran over the sand brought back memories of this special place.
Strangely, being in Portballintrae ( you know I paint it a whole lot!! See here) opened up a dose of memories that I have (or at least I have been told) around my Dad who died the week before my eighth birthday.
Visions of him holding a mug of tea while Mummy stood at the door of the caravan, or him fixing the spokes on my purple bike – these are all things that raced through my mind while my kids skipped about freely in the open field of the campsite.
Now that I have let it sink in I wonder if part of my grief and thoughts around Dad are linked to this “hallmark” holiday we call Father’s day?
If you’re like me and Father’s day has shifted since you had children with your partner and you are celebrating with gifts and breakfast in bed, enjoy. The favourite prints for Dad’s this year were Guinness, Royal Portrush, Bushmills and the penguin)
OR if Father’s day brings a bit more of a whince to your face because you lost someone close to you who you or indeed your children called ‘Dad’ then feel free to browse my blogpost about dealing with grief. I wrote it four years ago but it is as relevant as ever.
Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts and for always supporting my work.