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I woke up as usual, I got dressed as usual, caught the train as usual and got into work as usual, with the same old usual food bought as I do every Monday when I don’t have the energy to make myself a packed lunch the night before.

I logged onto my computer and started work. Checked my calendar. My heart sank. I hadn’t forgotten, I’d just not remembered it was right now. I knew it was coming. I never forget, but I kind of let it slip my mind, if that makes sense? A bit like when I phoned my mum and dad up all those years ago, my dad picked up the phone and we chatted for ages before he passed me on to mum, and she said “er, you do know what day it is, don’t you?” to which I promptly remembered it was his birthday. I was at work at the time so the gasp as I remembered I’d forgotten to remember startled my workmates. Just a tad.

Eight years ago today my dad died. He lost his fight with cancer. Bowel cancer with secondaries in the liver and I think maybe the lungs too. The same kind of cancer Lynda Bellingham has been fighting. The same cancer she’s decided to end the fight with. My dad did the same. You know when you’re done with the fighting.

They were the same colour, the liver losing its ability to do what it should. ┬áDad joked about giving David Dickinson a run for his money with his glorious mahogany tone, but the yellow in his eyes gave it away – he really wasn’t well. We had four months with dad from diagnosis to death.

I see acorns these days and it reminds me of the time we all drove back from the cinema together after watching The Queen (the Helen Mirren one), and there was a large pile of them by the road. Mind, I also remember how he somehow got in for free, completely by accident and we all had a good laugh about it on the way home. It’s the little things. But always acorns. This time of year.

Eight years. But good stuff happened today too. Shaun got his job so is now permanent. H is going to become a proper Rainbow next week. I got to go to her school today to look through all her books, and saw lots of good comments and remarks and a little girl who is really trying hard (Even though she often does the ‘I’m too tired mummy’ thing with me). That’s why today happened and I didn’t burst into tears first thing.

I told H it was eight years since the grandad she’ll never meet died. She said to me “hey, that means he’ll have met god! you meet god when you’re in heaven, you know?” and said it with such authority I just went with it. She seemed happy enough. I think he’d have words with her though, as he didn’t believe in all that.

Tonight I came home at a different time, picked up H from school rather than the childminder, did some work at home as it’s getting busy again, and ended the day differently. Tomorrow is another day, another new start, the same old routine back again. ┬áLife goes on.