He still loved me - even when I borrowed his clothes
He still loved me - even when I threw tantrums
He still loved me - even when I couldn’t understand why his illness was affecting my childhood
He still loved me - when I acted like a typical teenager and didn’t want to be seen with my parents
He still loved me - when I found his last days too difficult to bear and had to say my good-byes
But I think he loved me most the day his soul-mate presented me to him for the first time, for he had waited a very long time to be a father.
It’s been ten years now, and I still love him and miss him as much as ever, but I know he’s looking down at me and looking after me.
RIP Dad.



