Losing someone

A few months ago now, a wonderful man left this life. He was an honest man, a kind, generous and loving man. He was the kind of man whom people easily befriended – to most he was ‘Tommy’ and to some; ‘Tom’. To my mum he was ‘Tony’, and to me he was… Dad.

Integrity ruled his life and so shaped my own view of the world. He hated dishonesty, reviled deception and loathed criminality. More than a good man, he was a great man, and didn’t care if nobody ever said so. But he was a great man nonetheless.

I could write for hours, days and weeks about him. He would almost certainly not approve – brevity was one of his watch words. So in his honour and after his style of being , I will follow his example and keep this as brief as my still sorrowful heart will allow. Elsewhere I will put into words the bigger story.

Dad, nobody is perfect but you were so much more than you ever allowed yourself to believe. You suffered such indignity in your final years, months and weeks of life, I am immensely relieved that you were spared the conscious knowledge of any of it. In my mind and heart you remain a strong, dignified and utterly honest man and your peaceful slipping from this world was as much as I could have wished for on your behalf.

You are gone now, but I see your face every day in my home, smiling in that very special way of yours. I remain proud to call myself your son, and shall always be so. These words are not the end of my conversation with you because your memory shall always be within me. Love, like your memory, endures.

Thank you, Dad. Thank you.

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4 Comments on “Losing someone”


  1. That’s nice. I don’t think I could write this kind of stuff about my dad. My old man was a good bloke too, the strong silent type. Friends still talk fondly about him.

    Don’t think I ever met yours. I’m sure you must have met mine.

    Good blokes produce good blokes though, don’t you think?

  2. elsimmo Says:

    Thanks Gaz. I did indeed meet your dad a number of times ( cue: Van Morrison comparison) – he was a quiet man as far as I could tell, more or less in the background while we were being teenagers in and around your place. How long ago did you lose him?

    My dad died from alzheimers, vascular dementia and a succession of strokes – he didn’t mess about.

    Good blokes? Well I hope that I have learned from my dad and I hope to emulate his strengths – I certainly try. Unfortunately at this stage in my life, I find it hard to favourably compare myself, but I aspire to being regarded as I regard him.

  3. john26262 Says:

    think your old man and mine came from the same pod, very upstanding and very honest. growing up i felt i had very little in common with him, never really interacted and i kept my distance. when first diagnosed with terminal cancer i only then truely discovered how much he did in-fact mean to me and how much i truely loved and admired the man i called my dad, ( choking up even now 5 years since he passed thinking this ).and it is a measure of who he was that i too wish to emulate him and follow in his footsteps,,for a son to aspire to be anything like his father is a tribute to that man.. i believe you dad was and is happy with your moving tribute.
    beutifully put my friend…

  4. elsimmo Says:

    Hiya 2626 – the number sticks with ya doesn’t it? That generation had a tough time I think, tougher perhaps than most of us these days can truly understand. I don’t think they found it easy to open up – a great shame. Thanks for your kind words!


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