My Dad has just died. He was 91. In February I went to Greenock to celebrate his birthday with him in the house where I grew up. The same one he’s just died in.
There had been an ongoing debate in the family about whether he should stay at home or go into sheltered accommodation. The discussion was between everyone else but him. He was having none of it. He was fiercely independent, still driving and just last month he got on a bus and travelled to Inverness to see his close friend Jean.
Everyone I have called is distraught that this good man is gone. I haven’t got a date for the funeral yet but I’ll post more information when I do. It’s hard to come to terms with this. He and I had a rough old time getting used to each other when we were growing up. But as we got older and grew to understand each other we became best friends. Now my best friend is gone and I am in tears. I will write more when I can.