Another Birthday (again)

Yesterday was my dad's birthday. He would have been 90. He died in March 2003 and left me half a house, a car, money hidden around the house and a mum with Alzheimer's Disease. He also left behind three grandchildren who couldn't comprehend that Grandad was gone.

Three and a half year old Kieron was in my car with me, dropping his older brother off at school when my ever-caring, eventually to become ex-husband sent me a text to say that my parents' neighbour had phoned to say that there was a problem at my parents house and by the way, my dad was dead.

I went straight round to see paramedics and police in the road and my dad in his car, covered with a blanket and gone. Kieron was taken in by the neighbours while I tried to explain to my mum what had happened and that I would look after her now. Eventually I took mum back to my house and Kieron chattered away to her, not really sure why she was in my house and his Grandad wasn't. So I held him and explained that his Grandad was old and poorly and had gone to baby Jesus.

Kieron kept me sane that day and in the days to follow. His loving behaviour was there for me, mum, Jade and Callum even though he too was suffering. But children that age just can't understand that forever really is forever. Kieron and my dad were close. Really close. 78 years difference in age yet best of friends and partners in crime. It was my dad who got Kieron dry at night as he loved to babysit and worked on the basis that he'll only wet the bed a couple of times before he learns. In reality, my dad just couldn't cope with nappies, convinced that they were too tight if done up properly.

It was my dad who taught Kieron how to use hand drills and spanners, how to play Frustration, how to use ink stamps. He did this with all of my children, but Kieron was given that little bit more. There was no favouritism, but maybe my dad saw a little of his youngest sister in Kieron. His little sister who died when she was 3 and had dark hair and eyes like him too.

It was my dad who came to get me when I started bleeding part way through my pregnancy and my dad who kicked in the door to pediatrics when Kieron was admitted to hospital with septicemia when he was 11 months old and he couldn't work out the entry system. All he knew was that his only child was in there with his youngest grandson and we needed him and a silly door wasn't going to stop him.

It was my dad who cared for my mum, refusing help from me as he was too proud to admit defeat and my dad who held all of my children as if they were made of glass.

A good man. A great man. Loved by us all, but he was Kieron's best mate. Yet oddly enough, I don't have a single photo of them together. That's sad.

Family Car

Kieron and our car go hand-in-hand: during the summer, the boot is permanently full of beach stuff.....2 body boards( both Kieron's, but I'm allowed to use one), buckets, spades, 2 loungers (both mine, but Kieron's allowed to use one), windbreaks, sun block,wooden mallet, football, cricket gear, rubber ring...and SAND. Lots and lots of sand.

Other times, Kieron carries around his bike, old trainers, books, pens, notepad, pencils,sweet wrappers, empty bottles...another seemingly endless list.

Stains on the seats from spilled drinks, grubby fingers, trainer marks behind the front seats, crumbs and more wrappers in the front seat pockets, Chewits trodden into the car mats, finger mark drawings through mist on the windows and still visible when the windows mist over again.

Admonishments to do up seat belt, wind up window, leave the drinks holder alone, stop fiddling with the air con, heater  and other switches, to stop licking the sun visor mirror...more lists.

My requests to reach my handbag, to climb into the back, to pass my phone...another list.

Playing games on my phone while we sit in the car waiting for the school gates to open.

Kieron growing more independent and walking to the car in one of two learned parking places instead of me waiting at the school gates, and looking to see if I'd saved him my last Polo.


School run, shopping trips, going to the airport, dropping off/picking up from friends houses, after school club, parties, winter trips to beach cafe for bacon rolls. So many memories held within a few tons of metal.

And yesterday that particular memory bank went to the breakers: beyond repair, irreplaceable, much-loved. Apiece of metal? No...the extra family member.

The Big 50

Two days ago it was my 50th birthday. Two years ago, my daughter and I were discussing what to do to celebrate this and she suggested a party. I didn't fancy this idea and instead I suggested that we took the boys on the trip of a lifetime. Three days in Latvia were my father was born, so that the kids could get a feel for their heritage. This is something which has always been very important to Kieron as he needs to feel a real sense of 'family'.

During this trip, I was planning to take the boys on a firing range, so that they could have a go at firing the guns that they normally only fire via Xbox games. I suppose I was hoping to instill a sense of responsibility and awareness of the power behind weaponry.

Stage two of the trip was to be a week in Russia, which is where my family on my father's side originated from: a little town called Grozny. Cossacks and snow came to mind...being driven in carriages and reliving the grandeur of a bygone age to which we are all, as a family, very closely linked. Wolves snapping at our heels as we flew over the snow and flagons of hot chocolate  a la Narnia.

In February 2009, I flew out to Riga in Latvia to retrace my fathers steps: the hospital where he was born and his first homes. I threw a snippet of his first hair cut into a frozen river and said goodbye, finally accepting that he had gone. Frequently phone calls home met with excited questions from Kieron, wanting to know everything I had done.

So we were due to be there this week. And weren't.