Dear Dad,
Last year, the day before today was a bright sunny day. I know this because between us all we were going between the kitchen and the shed picking up the bunches of flowers, getting them ready for you Dad, for your funeral on the 10th of March 2020.
On 10th March 2020, waking up at about 5am, not that I needed to set the alarm the night before because I can’t remember actually sleeping. I get ready, knowingly it’s the day of my dad’s funeral, make up and being dressed up is ‘forbidden’, what will people say!!!! But Dad, even in the past when you’ve been so poorly in hospital, I always made sure that when I came to visit you I looked like you would expect me too. I think if I didn’t then you’d think ‘there’s actually something wrong with me, especially if Kiran is looking like that’! I chose not to wear mascara or eyeliner today but I definitely had my lipstick on for you. If anybody was going to say something my answer was going to be simple, go and tell my dad. As strong as I was going to be and for your soul to be at peace we shouldn’t cry today, I knew today I was going cry for you. Not just because it’s your funeral, but the thought of me coming home so early, I would normally find mum showered and dressed and more than likely lunch would be ready. You dad would be getting up with ease, you’d come downstairs in your chequered pjs and a sleeveless vest. I’d greet you with my usual ‘good morning handsome’ and you’d reply ‘hello darling’.
You’d shower, get ready and would always wear shirt and trousers. You’d call the boys at work telling them that you’ll come later because Kiran from Kent (like it was different country) had come.
At home we all waited patiently for your arrival, you were coming home at 9:30, the closer it got to this time you could see and feel the anxiousness in everybody.
You were home for about an hour. As they placed you back in your car, Dad, it was a Bentley ! Kawal, Bubbly, Suman and me, with our huge bags ready to cover the street with petals. At that moment the sun shone and the rain stopped!
We stood, 2 on each side in front of Roy, the funeral director. He said in the 40 plus years he had done this job he never seen anything like this, your dad must have been a really special man. Can’t remember who but one of us replied with ‘beyond special’.
As we looked back at your car Dad, there were flowers everywhere, mostly adorned with yellow. We had covered the whole of the street, right to end with flowers until your car turned the corner taking you to make you your last journey to the 2nd place you loved your shops.
Between the 4 of us, we tried to write your eulogy. We stopped and started and stopped and started. With so many people visiting we never really could sit down and do it. So I took it upon myself to write it. I didn’t come home that day, I just sat down with my laptop and typed. It was easy to start because 2 months earlier I wrote your birthday speech for you 70th birthday. You gave me a thumbs up so I knew it was ‘safe’. Keeping it ‘vegetarian’ was the key. So I copied and pasted the speech, added a bit more. Dad, what I’ll never forget is, at 1am on the day of your birthday, when I typed up your speech ready for your party, the last sentence I remember it so clearly, on the Friday before your funeral I deleted it because it said…..
‘Dad, we love you and here’s to the next milestone birthday’.