My father loves to give gifts. It is one of his love languages. We always knew that we would be spoilt at Christmas time if my father had anything to do with it. My grandmother used to tell us a story that when he was a small boy he only had a few coins, but went off on his own to the local store. On Christmas Day he presented both his parents with a gift. His father was presented with a handy light bulb and she received a tin of peas. The last gift I received from my father was a perfume for my birthday last year. I don’t see him very often now as he lives in Johannesburg.
My parents were on holiday in the UK when my mother passed away. They were to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary that year. He had to endure a long haul flight back home without his wife.
On Sunday mornings my dad used to play his music and cook breakfast.
I miss those mornings and the sometimes happy family times we shared.