Your head in the clouds.

After having just finished the best tin of mushroom soup I’ve ever made I realised it was down to one of my Grandas' many little tricks; all milk, no water. Then it dawned on me how much of 'my' tricks, values and knowledge that I possess were passed on from Jimmy Mitchell. This has been a weird week, between the identically bald-headed man on the bus in front of me a few days ago to the guy I served with the identical wine-red fleece, it's almost as if it's reassurance that he's still with us in one way or another. I bet the rest of my family all see things like this but don't talk about it in fear of upsetting each other.

It's amazing how someone other than a parent can have so much influence on a child, it's also amazing how someone can be missed so much. The picnics, the holidays, the suppertimes, the swimming, the todys, the haircuts and Betsie. Even little things like snoring, vocabulary, hankies and jam mean so much. I'd sell my soul to re-live some of the good times although that's a stupid thing to say when all the memories are good times.

I guess it's hard to let go of any family member, but it's even harder when you see his house every time you step outside, and when so many photos / items are just lying around the house available for a sneaky peak. It's impossible to be sad after so many years when you know he only wants us to be happy. I am happy, I’m going to make him happy, and proud.