When the phone rings at 2.30am you can be fairly sure it's not gona be great news and this was for sure the case this morning. With a freshly stubbed toe I called the number back to be told my Dad had died an hour earlier. As things stand I'm not even really sure how I feel about the whole thing, or even if it matters how I feel right now.
What I do believe to be a fact is that my dear old Dad was well and truly done. For him a pint and a cigarette were just about all he asked from life and he couldn't have either any more. From my point of view I find myself so very thankful to have a wife who pestered me into tracking him down a few years ago. Because of this he got to meet his third grand son Jack, and I got to have a few years I never thought I'd have with my Dad. In truth, it's been a pretty cool deal and it turned out he was a pretty cool Dad.