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Posts Tagged ‘Papa’

A day to remember

Posted by shinymac on January 19, 2008

Sometimes I sit and wonder what I would’ve been doing this time so many years ago. I remember back to times when my sister and I used to go up to Scotland for our summer holidays. They were always good times, back then, when I was obsessed with buying fashion and beauty magazines, back when I could get away with short skirts and flirting endlessly with the Scottish boys. I remember staying with my Aunty and being allowed to stay up until 2, 3 or even 4am talking about spirits, having takeaways and discussing other family members. At a really young age we would do the same visit almost every year during the summer but instead of staying with my Aunty, we would stay with my Nana and my Papa; my dad’s parents. My Nana used to tuck us right in the big double bed that my sister and I shared, with a million blankets, and shove a hot water bottle or two in with us to keep us from getting cold in the night. During the day, my Papa would lay on the floor in the living room on his front, with his grandad glasses on reading his newspaper or his magazine, which I am sure was called Journey’s Friend. His dog Bunty would be laid on his back, peeking over at his paper, or just guarding him from us kids who she thought were some kind of threat to her Master. Once Nana and Papa moved into a bungalow and began to obviously age, there was no longer any room for us, so we stayed at my Aunty’s house down the road. I missed the Coco Pops for supper, and my Nana telling me whenever I refused any food how fresh it was, as if that would change my mind. I don’t recall my Papa actually saying a lot. He was a man of few words, but he was passionate when he did speak. Despite his history as a Protestant, and an active one in the Orange order as a youngster, he welcomed my Catholic mum into his family, and treated her as one of his own. They shared a special bond both being from Ireland, and he felt that connection with her. One time, just after I’d had my kidney removed, and probably the last time I ever saw him, my dad told me to show him my impressive scar across my side, which I reluctantly did, only to be met with a kind of moment from him as he shared his operation stories with me, and tales of how he had to be cut right across his middle and right down his front. On this day in 2000, he passed away. The last time I spoke with him was just after midnight on 1st January 2000 on the phone whilst at my brothers house. I’m glad he managed to see in the millenium, and I’m glad I wished him a happy new year just over 2 weeks before he went. My dad took his death incredibly hard, we all did really, and he is sadly missed. Now he has Nana with him, and Bunty and Judy (a dog he had later in life), so we know he is happy. Thank you Papa for the moments we shared, although there weren’t many, but I will never forget them.


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