15/06/2025
It’s only just over a year without my dad, and today I found something that stopped me in my tracks.
Tucked away in a cupboard, whilst rummaging for something else, were these sky-high, pirate-meets-flower-meets-spotty platform boots Dad once bought me for Christmas. They were bold. Bizarre. Utterly unforgettable. And so him.
He wasn’t one for buying gifts himself in fact, he would ask mum, he rarely bought presents at all. But one year, he’d gone out, on his own, and picked these out. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the time I opened them. I wasn’t even sure if it was a joke, as Dad had a unique sense of humour. But I kept them. And today, I’m so glad I did.
Because now I see them for what they really were: love, disguised in fabric and sole. A reminder that even if words didn’t come easily, the gesture said it all.
Today, for those of us who find ourselves in the club , a close friend shared her experience about it once I had become a member, the one you only realise exists when you lose a parent — I’m thinking of you.
You notice it in the quieter things: the flowers being placed at gravesides, the scroll past smiling cards and pub lunches on your feed, the ache of missing someone who isn’t here.
If this day feels heavy, strange, or quietly sad — you’re not alone.
And if you’ve got something stashed away a pair of sky scraper boots, a letter, a look, a memory that reminds you you were loved, even in an unconventional way… I hope it finds you today, too. Sometimes it’s the little things in life that turn out to be the big things. 💕
Here’s to the ones who said it without saying it.
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