In March 2021, my dad, Patrick, passed away after a long struggle with Dementia with Lewy Bodies. Six days later my son was born. His middle name – Patrick.

My Dad & I were close. We talked often. About life, sport, career, relationships, but mainly mine. Is that just me? Oh, I do hope not. And so, I feel there are so many gaps in what I remember about his life—especially the years before I was born. There are moments, stories, and insights I never got the chance to ask him about.

What I would give to hear his voice again. He had a particularly joyful wink and chuckle. Ever since then in fact, if ever a friend’s loved one is suffering from an illness or they seem close to the end, it’s the one thing I say, “record their voice, record their laugh.” It’s hard to impress this upon friends without seeming like some audio evangelist, but there would be such a sense of comfort and peace to know that I could listen to it should I wish.

Dealing with death is a bit like parenthood. Until it happens to you, you simply cannot imagine the depth of feeling it brings up. Different feelings mind. But it’s nigh impossible to convey to someone how they might feel before they cross that proverbial line.

I often look back and so wish I’d asked more, or properly listened (!) to what Dad said about his childhood, growing up in a different time, a different continent, his experiences as a young man, a dad, a granddad. I wish I'd asked about his career, his perspective on the world, on me and my sisters, and our family’s journey. But naturally, it’s not what you do, or how you spend your time with loved ones. You prepare and eat food. You walk the dog. You watch telly. You ask them to fix your wardrobe or sew up your jeans – “and jeez ma, why is it taking so long?!!

So of course you don’t start your day “Oh morning Dad, I hope you slept well, so remind me again what are those big moments in life that have shaped you again?” …let alone have an unbridled half an hour to get a feel for what their family home was like growing up, or what they remember about their grandpa.

Everyday family life doesn’t tend to allow for it. There isn’t the space. Often we don't have the words, the language for it. Especially men. Instead, and with any luck, that familial space is oozing with great comfort, where everyone is, just, themselves. The comfort is that you just are with them. So, why ask them such questions?

Because if you take a moment, I bet you have questions.
I bet you have a whole sack full...

And more than that, I bet you would love to know the answers - right?

...when you cross the line, you will.