My Dad

B

becs

Guest
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

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I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

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awe becs I'm so sorry for your loss
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

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RIP xxx
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

Logon or register to see this image
Sorry for your loss becs lass.
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

Logon or register to see this image
He’s not suffering anymore mate and is in a better place.
It’s hard mine died last year and I still get emotional at silly things .
Cherish the memories.
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

Logon or register to see this image
That’s awful news. So sorry for you. He sounds like an absolute cracker of a Dad.
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

Logon or register to see this image
I don’t know what to say. Really sorry to hear your news. RIP your Dad.
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

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So sorry for your loss becs. An absolute horrible thing to go through. All the best mate....
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

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Beautifully poignant post becs, your dad sounds like he was a marvellous bloke. I'm so sorry to hear about your loss lovely lady. My thoughts and best wishes are with you and the family, big (((hugs))) xxxx :cry:
 
I’m sure my Dad thought I was a boy! My Mam was ill once when I was a baby so he said he’d take me out for the day to let her rest. Where do you take your one year old daughter? Normal Dad’s would have probably gone for a nice walk in the park or something. Not mine – he took me on a tour of Roker Park!

When I was a little older, weekends were spent with my Dad “jobbing on.” Used to help him with DIY jobs or washing the car etc. Radio Newcastle would be on in the background and we’d be listening out for “it’s a gooooaaaaallllllllll” and hoping it was good news. We’d pack in about 4.30 and go and watch everything coming through on the videprinter before final score came on. After tea, he’d walk to Savacentre and buy a Football Echo and we’d read it before I went to bed.

Got a bit older still and we started going to the match. It was the old third division when I really got hooked and we’d sit and talk football for ages. Never really stopped talking football with him.

He got me interested in other random things he found fascinating – mathematics, astronomy, steam trains. Could tell many a tale about laying outside in the middle of the night watching shooting stars or the beaming grin on his face every time he stood on a footplate.

Grew up with the same warped sense of humour and we’d laugh at the most stupidest of things. We were in Sunderland museum a couple of weeks back and there was a piece of branch that said petrified wood. I said “aww wonder what that poor twig was scared of?” He went off into hysterics and my Mam groaned and said “yep, you’re definitely his daughter!” We wound her up something rotten as well. She often mock scolded us and called us a right pair.

Never really saw him cry. He was always quite a “stiff upper lip” kind of bloke. Even when his own mother died, I never saw him cry in front of me. He was so proud of me the day I got my degree. I didn’t do it the conventional way. Decided to do it when I was juggling working part time with two children and gave birth to the third one in the middle of it. He kept me going through all of it and wouldn’t let me give up. When I graduated, I wore his gown and hood. I’ll never forget the look of sheer pride on his face and the tears that fell when he saw me in the gown. Until the stroke which left his emotions all over the place, that was the only time I ever saw him cry.

He had the heart attack and stroke in India. He took bad after the 3-0 win at St James Park and blamed Jack Colback for everything! He was seriously ill and I didn’t even know if I’d see him again. Finally they let him come back in the air ambulance. The first time I saw him in Sunderland he was laying there all wired up to machines and he had the typical dropped stroke face. He just looked at me and said “eeeeh hello pet. I’ve been a bit poorly!”

The last five years have been a rollercoaster. He’s had no end of problems with his heart, lungs, kidneys and so on. We’ve had several scares in the past but he’s kept battling on. We’ve managed to fill the five years with plenty memories. Been to many places, most recently the Leonardo exhibition and the Moon exhibition at Life. Took him in the planetarium there and he was grinning like an idiot.

He took poorly last Monday and was admitted into hospital. He seemed to be perking up though. I went in on Saturday night after the match as he wanted a report on that, and again on Sunday. He seemed to be getting better and they were talking about maybe letting him come home.

Went in yesterday afternoon and he wasn’t well at all. His breathing was poor and his colour shocked me. They were giving him morphine for the pain and he was spaced out but he knew the lads were playing last night.

I spoke to him on the phone about 11pm last night. I just wanted to talk to him before I went to bed. We discussed the match and he was excited that we’re going to Wembley. He said he really fancied a pint. I told him to get himself well and promised to buy him beers to watch the final with.

Rang this morning to see how he was. He was dozing but otherwise still the same. A few minutes after that, his breathing got shallower and then he just slipped away.

He was my best mate as well as my Dad and I love him so much. I've got a pain in my heart and he's going to be a huge miss.

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Really sorry to hear this. Obviously a huge influence on your life and I'm sure he left this earth happy knowing that he raised a wonderful daughter who will look after his grand kids and pass on that same sense of curiosity and wonderment to another generation. Keep doing what you're doing and his spirit will live on for many more years.
 

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