When you come across your old thesis and remember both the good times and the tough times of going through 4 years of 40+ hour weeks on an new course and you’re still great friends with almost everyone you went through it with. Would do it all again in a heartbeat.
Just that little bit of a sunset glow peaking under those dark clouds.
Dear Dad, over the past few weeks I've been doing some wood-working. It's something simple, nothing elaborate, but it's the kind of thing that we could easily have done together. The end product wouldn't mean as much as the journey of getting there. Having you there to talk to, to ask you for advice on a way to handle timber. That would mean so much more. But you're not here.
I remember the smells of the wood when you were always making something in the shed. It was like baking bread, a fresh cut of timber just filling the air with an aroma that I always associate with you. Every time I now fire up one of your tools and cut into a piece of wood, the smell instantly makes me think of you.
I miss that you were taken too soon and I didn't get a chance to learn more from you. Your experience is invaluable and it's gone with you. I can't pick up the phone and ask you how to tackle a tricky component. I can't come over and share a laugh with you as we wait for some glue to dry. I know you would drop everything just to help. I know you would have made the time to be there. Yet it's something I can no longer experience with you.
But I know you're there. I know you've taught me enough to get through and I know you'd be proud of the results, just as much as I'm proud of you.
Happy Fathers Day Dad, miss you heaps.