Christmas 1978

The wonderful Gillian over at Silly Gilly prompted me with this post to finally get around to posting my favourite family photo, from Christmas 1978.

That's me in the pink fairy dress, made by mum (of course). I still have it packed away somewhere.

I'm the youngest of five children. My two brothers and two sisters are the result of mum's first marriage. Her husband passed away when her youngest (my brother) was only about 9 months old. My dad (in the picture) was the local bank manager, who both helped my mum out professionally and fell in love with her.

Mum moved her family from Ardmona to Adelaide, and my dad followed. Instant family. A couple of years later I came along to complete the picture.

I love this photo. I can smell the bacon that my dad (Dar) cooked for breakfast every Christmas morning. I love that my parents drank champagne, and that we always invited our older neighbours over to join us. I still dream about Mr and Mrs Harman and their orange trees. The spice rack full of dusty spices. The pantry with the empty egg cartons on top (I still can't remember why we saved them), and THAT wall paper!

My lovely dad died four years after this photo was taken. He smoked. He had cancer. It was discovered very late in the piece, and he passed away only six weeks after being diagnosed.

I've always had this photo tucked away in a special spot, but the day that my ex walked out, this was the photo that came out to be displayed in a special spot in my room.

We are none of us perfect, not least my Dar, but the thing he didn't take for granted was his family. He'd been married previously, with no children. When a friend of his visited him after he married my mum, he confessed to mum that he'd never seen my dad so happy and complete. My Dar would have loved his only grandson to bits, and we're so happy to see glimpses of my dad in Felix's personality and looks.

To watch someone just give up on their family is an incredibly hard and sad thing to do. Especially so when you have experienced the loss of a loved one who would have given anything to have been able to stay.

I like to think that, if he was still around, my Dar would have been the one to speak up and say 'You bloody idiot. Look what you've done'. In fact, I know he would have.

Felix and I will make you proud, Dar.

We love you

xxxx