Ok, my turn to get all teary-eyed…
(cue the music, err, Radio 1 used to play it when that Mike Reid used to do those sad stories. Can’t even remember how it goes, but i’m sure some of you older UK crappers know what i am on about)
So my mom died when i was six, twenty two years ago and it was mainly me and my dad til my sister moved back in when i was about 13. Never really got on with the old man, (as most kids don’t) until i left school. All of a sudden i could do what ever the fuck i wanted: stay out all night, come back in all sorts of fucking states, bring back dirty’s and keep em locked up in my bedroom all weekend. The ss soon as i started working i was the fucking golden child.
By the time i moved out at 19 i can’t say i was particularly close to him, but we go on well. Never really did stuff together, but that was as he was always working.
Now i probably only see him once every couple of months for half an hour or so. Or when i need to borrow his lawn mower.
I’d fucking miss the old cunt if he wasn’t there though.