Six Moments For Six Years

Tonight is six long years since my father passed away. I set aside from nightfall tonight until tomorrow night to remember him and all he gave me, and to learn in his memory.

Here are six moments in time I would love to have with you if I could.

1. Invite you for Shabbat at my house, the way I so often came to you. I’d cook, and plan, and worry about the food, and be so excited to welcome you into my own home. We would sing, and tell stories, and the time would run away from us, and I’d stay up all night asking the questions I never thought I wouldn’t get to ask.

2. Have a hug. As simple as it sounds, after it’s gone you never get the same kind of touch again that you receive from a parent. When the relationship is good, they know you, they empathise with you, they love you in an unconditional way, and that kind of emotion cant be transferred any better than through touch. Better than wishing for an entire day to sit and talk, I would love a chance to hear you call me sweetheart, and feel safe and loved in your arms again just for those few seconds.

3. Play with R. I’d sit back and watch the two of you spend effortless time together, him jabbering nonsense and you answering with pride. Reading him books, sitting him on your knee, looking into each other’s identical eyes, and singing him the same songs you once sang to me. Every day I hope that I can make up for the fact that he wont know his Zeida, and I’d love to see you with your grandson, just once.

4. Watch some Sci-Fi, play some board games, read silently next to each other, and pretend that the time isn’t precious and irreplaceable, and that we could do this every day if we wanted to, and that the choice to just exist together hasn’t been taken away forever.

5. Send you out with C, on a ‘male bonding’ outing. Who knows where you would go, and you’d probably both come back so very awkward, and to my annoyance, neither of you would remember what you even talked about or did. I’d just be so glad you got a chance to get to know each other, even in a small way, because my mind still finds it impossible to comprehend the two men in my life existing for me without true knowledge of the other. So yes, I’d gladly give up one of my nuggets of time with you, to know you got to meet him as my husband, even just that once.

6. Show you my world. How bitter-sweet to think of the amazing way my life turned out over the last six years, and yet how little of it you would recognise. You were always so unconditionally proud of me. Back then, I had just finished high school, now I have a degree and my own business. Like all 18 year olds, I worried I would never find ‘The One’, and now I proudly share my life with my best friend. The idea of kids didn’t cross my mind more than fleetingly, now my son is never out of my thoughts and yet somehow a complete stranger to you. These have been the years of my life that I’m likely to change the most. I’m simply a different person.

Six years on, would you even know me? And Daddy, would you still be proud?

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Dads

I know this may be an unfair request to make, but ladies of London, please stop staring at my husband like that.

I know, he is holding a baby. I know, he has this baby on his shoulders and I know, the baby is laughing. But seriously, I am two steps away from not letting C hold R when we are out and about.

Add to this the double standard of how when I hold R upside down by his ankles in a crowded shopping street, I am given the ‘irresponsible’ glare. Oh dear I do hope that mother knows what she is doing. That is so very dangerous. C doing the exact same thing? oh would you look at that father with his child? How precious. Oh it is so lovely to see a dad bonding with his baby.

Dont get me wrong, I agree with you. A dad and his baby is truly one of the cutest things you can see, and one of the most likely things to make your womb skip a beat outside of a maternity ward, but everything in moderation ladies. You dont see me gazing lovingly at your hubby just because he’s playing kickabout with your toddler, or being just that bit over-enthused at the unposed photo of him cuddling your daughter. I’m not saying I dont look, I’m saying you dont see me.

So do me the same favour that I do other mums, pretend. Wait until I’m looking away, be discreet, train your face out of the obvious ‘aww’ that you’re dying to let out. Any of the above really, I may be a little insane, but I’m not fussy.