My Dad

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The Hesford Diet said:
Some brilliant memories there. I've seen that pic of you when you were a bairn on the touchline at Roker Park with the Fulwell End behind you. Was that the day of the tour?
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Yes that was the day of the tour. He definitely wanted me to be a MLF

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I've posted this one before as well:

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Just read the OP. Sounds like you and your Dad had a very special relationship, treasure the memories.
He is one of us.
R.I.P.
 
That was such a beautiful piece Becs. May he rest in peace.
It reminded me of the relationship I had with my own dad, and I know how hard it was to lose him. I've always comforted myself by remembering the joy, and wisdom that he passed down to me. I'm sure you will too.
 
Ginger John said:
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.
 
Ginger John said:
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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Choked me up this, heart goes out it to you
 
Sorry for your loss, your dad sounds an absolute diamond. I'm not religious but like to think he'll add to crowd of excellent MLF's that are no longer with us and can guarantee my old man would be keen to get his first pint in wherever they might be.
RIP
 
Smashing post Becs and you're Dad sounds like one of the best. I sensed where it was going as I'd seen a post of yours in the match thread where you mentioned that your Dad was in hospital. I'm pleased that the colour has faded in the bottom photo on your recent post though.
RIP Becs Dad.
 
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