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.