BDD's
I had a 'memory' post pop up on my FB newsfeed today. It was a short sentence and a photo of the marina at Motueka where Mum and I had coffee when I was down visiting her. I realised it would've been about 6 months before she sold the house and moved up to Wellington to be near us. It sparked off a "Bad Dad Day" (BDD) for me. Funny how sometimes such a small thing can set you off. BDD's mean it's a day I'm going to cry at least once. Dad's been gone over 6 years now and while the sharpness of the pain has dulled to an ache, it's never going to be OK. I look out at my garden and hear my Dad telling me 'You need to do this, and you need to do that'. Saying that, I'd probably never have bothered to start the journey of establishing a garden if it wasn't for him. So, some days I look out at my yard and I think of Dad, and it's enough to know that I'm doing something he loved to do, even to the point of pruning way to