My dad died when I was fifteen, just about to turn sixteen. I was staying with a boyfriend for a fortnight when it happened, and I hadn?t seen him for a month.
Me and my dad were exceptionally close. I knew this while he was alive and we shared a lot. But not enough. He died aged forty-two.
Although it?s been about a year and a half since he died it gets harder as the memories begin to fade. I struggle to recall every detail but as each day passes it gets harder. He has missed out on so much already and he will miss out on everything to come.
If I could speak to him one more time I'd tell him how much I love him and miss him. He was the only person I respected for many years and despite his many faults he will always be my inspiration. I?ll always wave my Welsh flag with pride.