Last week I shared with you the story of my husband’s 40 years in a single post. One short paragraph stood out for me as I wrote it and read it back. I’m sure it would have done for anyone reading the post too:
When he was just 13, tragedy struck. His Dad died of cancer after a short illness. They’d had a special bond and it hit the boy hard.
I wrote that post and I wanted to include photos of my husband as a little boy with his beloved Daddy. But I didn’t have any.
Then something amazing arrived in the post – a photobook from my sister-in-law with loads of photos of my husband throughout his childhood. So now we have some!
I never met my husband’s dad, but I know he was a special man. He had a good job, but always got home from work nice and early and was always there for his kids. He had dreams for himself and his kids – of holidays they would take together and sports and activities they would do together.
My husband remembered the other day how his dad had had a birthday banner with the words Life begins at 40 on it. Life was just starting to begin. They had a little bit of money to do the things he’d dreamed of doing.
But life was brought cruelly to an end. If his life began at 40, it was a very short life.
In memory of the Dad and husband who brought so much happiness to his family, the father-in-law I never knew and the Grandad my children and their cousins never knew.
This post was written in response to a prompt over at Sticky Fingers. Thanks to the prompt, I’ve been able to bring together my thoughts on Dads and 40th birthdays, in a week which saw both Father’s Day and my husband’s 40th and brought these memories back.