jayherself

My best friend just pointed out that in 12 days, it'll be 2 years since her father passed away. I can remember the day he passed away pretty well. I got the phone call in class, and I held it together as I told the lecturer I was going to have to leave, then just walking home and crying. I didn't even care that I was walking down a busy street because I loved that man like a father and he was gone. A mighty kauri had fallen.

We knew it was coming. He had been struggling with cancer for months, he was literally half the man he used to be (photographic proof below) and getting weaker by the day. I hadn't actually seen him for months. I had moved to Auckland before his diagnosis and it happened so quickly that there just wasn't time. I felt guilty about that. Still do. When I got to Wellington it was hard for me to believe that the man I was looking at was the same man who took me in when I ran away from home (but always rang my parents so they knew I was safe), put me in playful headlocks to teach me a lesson and tell me off for knocking on the front door ("how many times to I have to tell you you're family!" - it took 10 years of that before I got it). He just made me feel safe. He made all of us feel safe.


Photo of a photo. How I choose to remember Rick.


Rick three days before passing away.