So here we are again. Now it seems like my New Years start here, another Year without my Dad.
This year the anniversary has been so much harder to deal with, or maybe last year was like that and I blocked it from my head.
I've been struggling with it all week, the worst thing in work is that there is simply nothing to distract you and stop you thinking about it, and i've brooded on it, and been simply rude and awful to some people that haven't deserved it, I even played a cruel, horrid trick on Welshy New Year's Eve, for no reason other than I felt the need to take it out on someone.
Bless him to pieces, despite my insistance that I'd be fine and the fact that I'd not see him, he insisted on coming down, saying that he'd feel better being only 40 minutes from me, rather than 4 hours away if I needed him.
I took him and his friend to the Cup Game, and we went for a drink in Greenwich afterwards, I shall have to buy him a present or something to say thank you.
and now its the day itself, and I think i've exhausted myself through not being able to sleep for the last two weeks, or sleeping very badly if I have done, and I've spent a great deal of this weekend asleep.
We didnt do much for the Deathday anniversary itself. Brat took himself out and away from us, and Mum was loathe to do anything without him, so we've both moped about the house a little all day.
On Wednesday we're going to see Spamalot for his birthday, and I think he'd have approved of that.
I miss him. I miss him terribly and constantly. And I have no more to say about today than that. And I hope he knows that, somehow.