mostly david ephgrave

I'm trying to keep everything relatively lowkey at the moment and focus on the precious little things that bring good. One such thing is spending time with the dog and enjoying what he enjoys. He loves shooting around the garden, and I like to watch him and spur him on. I'm often so caught up in my head from day to day that I take things like this - or taking him for a walk - for granted. I'm trying not to though, as these moments are what life is all about. Spending time with the wife is another example (though the second-billing was accidental). We've had a lot to process lately, and while this stuff doesn't just vanish, I think we've earnt some time away from it. Recent events have underlined how you can spend a lifetime trapped in someone else's timeline to almost miss out on your own. But approaching forty is a good time to make a conscious effort to live a little differently: to attempt to look to the present and the future instead of always l...

I lost my dad a year ago today; I don't know where the time's gone. He's never far from my mind though. And nothing I do could have happened without him. Because, as he once poetically put it, "You can't even wipe your own arse".  I'm inevitably feeling a little fragile. There's a dull, heavy ache in my body and the need to take things gently. Anniversaries seldom hold much weight for me as I know the date's arbitrary, but this one's a little different as it marks the first year gone. The first full cycle. And that's not easy to consider, however matter-of-fact I try to be. I visited the cemetery today where he's buried, as I often do, and took my dog with me. It was probably due to the hot weather more than anything, but when we arrived at the grave, my dog sat down at the foot of it and made himself comfortable, chewing the grass. It seemed like a good idea, so I joined him (minus the grass bit). We sat there together, by m...

Today, I received word that my dad's gravestone has been laid, along with a photograph to prove it (not that I was in any doubt). It's these things you can be a little unsure how you'll react to; it was like seeing his coffin at the funeral or carrying his ashes casket at the burial. There's a sense of finality and actuality that can be a little unsettling if don't prepare yourself for it. But any time I worry, I remind myself that it's just my dad and I love him, and I needn't be afraid, because there'll never be a reason to be frightened when he's nearby, ever. When the paramedic asked if I wanted to see him when I arrived minutes after he'd died, I faltered for a moment. But I quickly mentally corrected myself, because I knew I had a responsibility to him as my dad, and because I knew he'd need me. He told me more than once towards the end that I made him less afraid when I was there, so I was glad there was a way I could acti...