Day 264. F**k cancer.

I'm not that good with words. Spoken ones. I tend to use humour as a way of diverting attention away from the fact that I'm often painfully self-conscious. But the written word has always been a source of catharsis and my first point of refuge when life is tough.

Today is one of those days.

Several months ago I was told that my biological Dad was seriously ill and had been sent home for palliative care. He and my Mum divorced when I was young and I was raised by my step-Dad - a term that's alien to me as he's just Dad. My biological Dad remarried too but I was never a part of that family. I think I visited them twice in 15 years, always hopeful that our relationship would magically come together in a way that's only true in books and films, but it never did. We lost touch fully and although I often thought of him, he became just another distant family member.

Then this happened.

We got back in touch. Exchanged emails and texts. I wanted to visit and hoped he wanted me to visit but we sort of skirted around the issue both dropping hints but neither of us taking the lead. I wanted to pick up the phone and just talk but what would I say? Where have you been for the past 40 years? He'd had a health scare a few years back, we talked, laughed and promised to stay in touch. I missed him and still all these years later wondered why he hadn't fought to keep me in his life.

He had never met my daughter Bea, his only grandchild and although I shared photos during the past few months it wasn't the same as meeting her in person. He commented how beautiful she was. That’s true. How he hoped he’d meet her some day. Again in a film this would be the point when Bea and I would arrive at the hospice just in time to say goodbye; his hand resting on her head, tears in our eyes as we exchanged grateful looks for this final reunion.

Sadly life doesn't imitate art and today I found out that my Dad, I want to call him that without the biological reference, my Dad died on September 1st. His funeral took place at 11am on Tuesday 10th September as I sat in a marketing meeting unaware that he had gone. There's no point looking for someone to blame. Our relationship was complex for us, imagine how it must be for everyone else. But I have spent the past 3 weeks oblivious to the fact that he was no longer here. Sending texts and emails to let him know I was thinking of him. I sent him another one today after I heard the news. He never read the others so one more can’t hurt.

Of course life is too short for regret but I wish I had jumped in the car and faced my fears and anxieties all those weeks ago. At least then today I'd be remembering the last time I saw him instead of feeling guilty that I have let him down and longing for one last hug.

Goodbye Dad.