On Tuesday my Dad had surgery. Just a little procedure, but one that required a general anaesthesic. It wasn’t until a few minutes before he was due to be admitted that I saw how nervous he was and that made me nervous. Very nervous. All the what ifs. Those nasty, nasty spaces that your imagination takes you when your mind is faced with the unknown. Had I told him enough how much I love him? How much he means to me? Thanked him enough for the amazing life he and my mother laid out for me?
I seem to need constant reminders of late, of what is really important in my life. It is just so easy to let the busyness take over. Cloud-dreaming has been a quiet little place over the past couple of months as life became overwhelmingly busy again. The events of Tuesday and my Dad’s recovery have been a timely reminder of what is important. Again.
So here I am. Making time.
How do you stop the busyness from taking over your life?
In my own little way I intend to tell the people I love what is important, what makes them special to me. So here is a start. An ode to my pre-marriage and babies family, just because I want to.
Dad. You are the best of men and of fathers. I love you so very much. You listen without judgement and issue good advice. Often. You are always there. You work too hard, but you are exceptional at what you do. You model kindness and compassion and understanding. I am so very grateful that you were given to me as my Dad. Thanks for all the fun times, especially walking home in the early hours of New Years Day sometime in the early 90’s, for throwing me off your shoulders into the rolling surf, and for always baiting my hook so my hands didn’t get smelly. I treasure those memories.
Mum. You are, quite simply, amazing. I love you so very much. You are unfailingly loyal and selfless. Sometimes too selfless. You give so much that I often long for you to give a little to yourself too. Your ‘Mummy Gene’ is something to be coveted. You even have an act named after you – to do a ‘Marie’, is to be really really clever, utilise common sense, think laterally and solve a seemingly impossible problem/situation with a simple piece of inspired brilliance. You are an exeptional Granny. My children a.d.o.r.e. you. I think it is really cool that you are making Aberdeen Sausage with Poppy on Thursday. Big Pop would be really proud.
Therese. I love you little sister. I admire you. So much. You are just a really cool chick. Clever, witty, sharp as a tack. Like mum, you are as loyal as they come. Like Dad, you love a good night out and I am always more than happy with that : ) I had so much fun locking the ‘kids’ out of the house with you after school. F.u.n.n.y. I still love you even though you did write ‘I LOVE BOYS’ in eyeliner on my forehead Christmas 1999. Those photos still give me the giggles. Do you remember Tube Surfing in London? Good times.
Clare. You are a force to be reckoned with little sister. I do love you, even though you threatened to throw out my childhood keepsakes recently. I am not sure if I still have ’stuff’ in mum and dad’s side patio, but if I do it better still be there. I will get to it. I will. Eventually ; ) It is no surprise that your daycare room was the best behaved for Santa last Friday and that therefore your children got the best Santa Photos. You are organised and consistent and don’t stand for any rubbish. More than that, though, you are fair and fun and your daycare children love you and respect you. It is obvious. Like Mum, you give so much, especially to my children and DJ and I. This year would have been impossible to bear without your help. Thank you, always. Sorry that Therese and I used to lock you out of the house. Honestly.
Chris. What can I say little brother? You are awesome and I love you. I have so many pics of us together that I treasure. Fishing at Hastings, travelling in Scotland, getting just a little bit messy at Livid and Big Day Out. There is almost 10 years between us. This felt like a lot when we were young. I mean, I changed your nappies! Back then I was the protective big sister and you were the cuddly little brother. Now, as adults, I would still love to bundle you up sometimes, but really, you are an amazing man and I am grateful that I have you in my life. You always smile when you see me and greet me with a huge hug. Without fail. I feel happy when you are around and life just feels a bit ‘crusier’. Best of all you make it clear that you love me just because I am me. I appreciate that I can vent to you without fear of judgement. And I do. 10 years doesn’t seem like such a big difference as adults, does it? Little brother, you have so many of Dad’s great traits with less of the drama (sorry Dad, but you know I get my hint of drama from you so I can make comment). You have a couple of Dad’s bad habits too, but I will refrain from identifying them here. Please teach my daughter to surf. And my son. That would be really cool. I am sorry I locked you out of the house with Therese. I am, honestly, even though it was fun and we got to watch what we wanted on the TV.
Thank you family for being my story and for making it so crazy and beautiful! Here’s to another crazy beautiful Christmas…
Fran x
Filed under: the why of cloud-dreaming
