It would have been my Dad's 70th birthday on Tuesday. He died not long after his 60th, in February 1998. My son was born a month later.
This year I cried for a long time, and I'm still crying. And on Tuesday, I actually decided that Tuesday wasn't going to happen. I was determined to make it not happen by staying in bed. Then I noticed the sun was shining. So I got in a taxi and went to the park, and getting out into the sunshine made me feel a bit better.
I had written a lengthy, grief-soaked post to go with these pictures. But I think the pictures are enough. They speak of life, not death. Even as autumn fades into winter and the last leaves fall, there is still the warm light of the sun. In winter I hold my face up to the sun and close my eyes.
So there I was on Tuesday out in the sunshine. And he was there too. We enjoyed the light dancing on the leaves, the wind in the grasses.
The morning my Dad died the sun shone with a brilliance I will never forget. It was February. Perhaps that is why in winter I hold my face up to the sun and close my eyes.