The start of this year hasn’t been the kindest or easiest for my family. My dad passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on January 16th, of what we now know was an abdominal aortic aneurysm – where a bulge in the artery from one’s heart to the stomach ruptures, manifesting itself very similarly in the way a heart attack does if that happens. My understanding is that symptoms can include back and stomach pain that is persistent and palpitations, but that there are usually no early symptoms, and often they are only picked up via screening or tests for other reasons.

I saw my dad the day before he died – randomly bumped into him at the supermarket, and we laughed and joked the way we often did. There was no hint of anything untoward, and I think that’s what I’m finding hard – the fact he obviously had this but nobody knew anything about it. I remember the call from my mum asking me to come home (I’d gone for a walk round the block just to get out of my flat) and I can’t explain it, but I knew what she was going to tell me. I asked where he’d been, and if he’d been alone. We later found out that someone had been with him until the ambulance arrived, talking to him about the football and helping him to breathe. I’m glad.

Some of you might know that the title of this post is a lyric from With You, from the musical adaptation of Ghost, and it quite aptly sums up where I am at mentally right now. My dad is on my mind every day; I still have the last texts and Whatsapp messages we shared, and don’t want to delete his number from my phone. I’m struggling to look at photos without getting emotional. It’s odd, the way grief seems to be coming in waves at the minute: I have long stretches in the day where I find myself on an even keel, but then it will hit me violently and suddenly, and I need to cry. I tend to take my grief to bed with me, where I can be alone and find comfort in music or a podcast, or try and get lost in a book. My sleep has been really affected, and I find it difficult to concentrate. I noted very recently that it might often show itself for me as physical pain: there was a Tuesday a few days ago where everything: my back, my head, my legs, hurt, and I know there will be ups and downs like that to come as I try to come to terms with the hole his absence has left and I suspect, will always leave in my life.

Losing a loved one is horrendous at any time, but the pandemic puts a harder spin on things because you can’t get the support from your extended family the way you would normally. I’m hearing “how are you doing?” a lot and in all honesty, I don’t really know how to answer, as it changes with the day. That being said, I’m beyond grateful to have the community of friends around me that I do – I know some of them feel awkward and like there’s nothing they can say or do to make it better, but I promise the love and support you have given does and will continue to make a difference.

My dad was always one of my biggest champions; he always helped me fight my corner and could make me laugh like no one else could. He was always so patient and giving in his support of me – he’d give up his weekends to take me to London or elsewhere so I could see shows and spend time with my friends, many of whom he came to know and become friendly with whilst we waited at Stage Doors for the cast – I know they think of him very fondly too, even if they couldn’t always get to grips with his accent!

I’m so grateful that he was a part of my life, I will love and miss him always and hope I can carry on making him proud.