As I sit here, penning down these words on the eve of my 46th birthday, I find myself enveloped in a cascade of emotions that I struggle to put into coherent sentences. You see, reaching this milestone age comes with its own set of reflections and challenges, but for me, it carries an additional weight, a poignant reminder of the age my father was when he left this world.
Turning 46 has stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me, emotions I've attempted to bury deep within the recesses of my heart for years. Yet, as the calendar pages turned inexorably towards this day, those buried sentiments rose to the surface, demanding acknowledgment.

My dad, my rock, my first love, my hero, was taken from us too soon. He was just 46, the same age as I turn tomorrow, when fate cruelly snatched him away from us.
His passing wasn't just a loss, it was an earthquake that shattered the very foundation of my world, leaving me adrift in a sea of grief and disbelief. His absence has left an indelible void in my life, one that no amount of time or healing can ever truly fill.

As I stand on the precipice of this milestone, I find myself grappling with a myriad of conflicting emotions. There's an overwhelming sense of grief, of mourning for the moments we'll never share, the conversations left unspoken, the wisdom left unpassed. There's an ache in my heart that refuses to be assuaged, a longing for just one more day, one more hug, one more chance to tell him how much he meant to me.
But amidst the sorrow, there's also gratitude. Gratitude for the time we did have together, for the lessons he imparted, for the love he showered upon me unconditionally. His memory is etched into the very fabric of my being, a constant reminder of the man he was and the values he instilled in me.

Turning 46 feels like traversing uncharted waters, navigating a path that my father once walked but was unable to guide me through. It's a journey fraught with uncertainty, tinged with the bittersweet realization that I'm now the age he was when he left us. 
Forty-six years young, with so much life left to live, so many dreams left unfulfilled, so many moments left unshared. I just can't get my head around it. How am I turning the age he was, when he died?  
It's a sobering reminder of the fragility of life, of the fleeting nature of time, and of the importance of cherishing every moment we're given, but still, it's beyond unfair, he was too young, too full of energy, too full of love. He was meant to grow old and grey, his face was meant to wrinkle. He was meant to retire and continue enjoy to travel around the world, taking in all it mystery and beauty. 
He was meant to walk his three daughters hand in hand down the aisle, toast our futures, be overwhelmedwith love when his grandchildren were born, to build them tree houses, and burst with pride at their every achievement.
We should have had crisp Autumn dog walks along the beach and forest walks in the forest as his favourite flowers, bluebells burst into flower. Dad should have outlived his parents, instead it was them who stood at his graveside, their hearts were shattered at losing their second child.
There are so, so many precious moments stolen away from him and us, his dreams stamped out, way before they should have been. Dad had so much more to give, so much more to achieve and witnesses. But still he was given the most cruellest hand.
But amidst the turmoil, there's also hope. Hope that I can honor my father's memory by living a life filled with purpose and meaning. Hope that I can carry forward his legacy, embodying the values he held dear, integrity, compassion, resilience. Hope that, despite the pain of his absence, I can find peace in the knowledge that he's always with me, guiding me from beyond the veil.

So, as I bid farewell to 45 and embrace the dawn of a new year, I do so with the heaviest of hearts and an overwhelming feeling, I haven't got the words to describe or understand. But also with a renewed sense of purpose. I'll carry my father's memory with me every step of the way, drawing strength from his love and wisdom as I navigate the uncertain waters of life. And though the ache of his absence will never fully fade, I take comfort in knowing that his spirit lives on within me, a beacon of light guiding me through the darkness.

Dad, as I potter through the year, I've been dreading for so long, please know that, Although you may be gone, your love remains forever imprinted upon my soul. That I promise to try my utmost to live my life to the fullest, as you once did, as you should have be able to continue to do. I will carry on your legacy. 
And when my time comes to meet you again, I hope you'll be waiting for me, arms ready to give your youngest daughter the biggest bear hug.
I long for the day we are reunited, but until that glorious day, I hope I will fill your heart with pride and love. 

Until next time, 
Toodle pip.

🦋🦋🦋