The death of a loved one is always hard. With time grief abates, it shrinks and becomes manageable – but it is still there. As time passes, I find that I have more memories of my father when he was in full health – a tune on the radio brings back memories of dad sitting in his favourite chair, singing and conducting to his beloved Mozart.
And then there are anniversaries. Today would have been dad’s 86th birthday, the first since his death. I listen to a Mozart Horn Concerto (the 3rd, always our favourite), remembering vividly the birthday when he bought me the record, and we sat together joyfully listening to it, nearly 50 years ago. I have tears in my eyes, but they are happy tears.
Happy birthday, old man. I miss you.