Dear dad,

It’s been 4 years since you left us; since cancer took you away from us. 4 years of missing you and wishing you were here. 4 years of cheersing you every time I have a whiskey. 4 years of telling people what you were like, instead of introducing you to them.

I often wonder what you would think about how much I’ve changed since you left. I wonder if you would be proud of what I’ve done. I wonder if you’d come to visit me on my adventures, and tell me the same stories you always told.

I know you’d be fuming that I passed my driving test (finally), but you’d make me give you lifts anyway. You’d probably buy cars for me, you and Heidi ‘because it was such a good deal’, like when you got those Suzuki Swifts.

You’d probably still be filling up your soda water bottle in the pub, to save 20p buying a bottle in the supermarket. You’d probably still be riding around on that bloody electric bike that did ‘30 mph downhill’.

It doesn’t get any easier, as each year passes, in fact it gets harder. I feel like I’m forgetting you and I hate it. See, when you lose a parent, it’s like part of you dies, there’s no other way to describe it. I think about you every day; whether that’s in a passing thought when I see something that reminds me of you, or in tears that overflow and roll down my cheeks, seemingly never ending.

Daddy Shep, you were one of a kind, and Heidi and I will miss you every day until we see you again xx

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