Yesterday was my birthday. It was also Father’s day. Both are joyous occasions to be celebrated. Yet in my house, some tears were shed.

My father died last year. This was my first birthday without him.

It was heartbreaking to not hear “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart” or be enveloped in a bear hug. On my last birthday my father had completed his course of chemotherapy and was in very good spirits looking forward to his recovery. Two months later, he simply stopped breathing. If you had told me then that he wouldn’t be around for my next birthday, I would never have believed it.

Everyone says that after a loved one dies, the first year is the hardest. It has been very difficult. And honestly, I don’t see it getting any easier.

Some days the grief is overwhelming. My mother’s birthday was a week after my dad’s death, we were still in shock. The first Christmas was tough, as was his birthday and Easter. We still expect to see him sitting on his favourite chair reading a newspaper or solving a crossword puzzle.

My mum and I spent time yesterday reminiscing about my dad. We laughed and cried together. It was very bittersweet.

Tomorrow, my parents would have celebrated their 47^th Wedding Anniversary.

As  difficult a day as yesterday was, tomorrow will be worse.