Growing up without dad
10 years on from his death daughter pays an emotional tribute to Phil O’Donnell
MEGAN O’DONNELL was only 12-years-old when her father, footballer Phil O’Donnell died.
Today, as the 10th anniversary of his death approaches, Megan talks of her family’s loss and their fundraising mission.
AS the 10th anniversary of footballer Phil O’Donnell’s death approaches, his daughter Megan pays an emotional tribute.
In her own words she describes how the family have coped and reveals a memorial fundraiser in his name
TEN years is a long time. If someone were to ask you to recall a memory you have from 2007, you’d probably struggle.
That year, the world was thrown into a financial crisis – a crisis that we are still recovering from. The final Harry Potter book took its place on our bookshelves, and Apple launched its first iPhone.
It was a year of change, a year which shaped the world we live in today.
It was also the year I witnessed the death of my father; Celtic, Motherwell and Scotland footballer, Phil O’Donnell.
He died on the pitch in front of a crowded stadium on December 29. A day I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I was 12-years-old.
The age of 12 marks the beginning of a turbulent transition period. For most young girls, being 12 marks the start of high school and kick-starts a few long years of following the crowd before discovering your own likes and interests.
It marks making friends, changing your appearance and trying to be “grown-up”. Little did I know that at 12-years-old, my family life would be completely turned upside down.
The first few months after my dad’s passing are a blur, all I remember is the house being full of people and flowers – with all the visitors stopping by to pay their respects, I learned how to make a perfect cup of tea. I also learned that family is so important, and in tragic times everyone rallies round to help one another.
In my eyes, my mum is superwoman. She survived becoming a widow at the age of 35 and she survived having to bring up four children all by herself. I know my dad will be beaming with pride at the amazing job she has done. To say that I miss my dad is a fairly obvious statement to make.
I miss the car journeys to school every morning, belting out Queen’s greatest hits and singing songs from the Forrest Gump soundtrack.
I miss playing football in the hallway, with him as the goalie in the door frame while my brother and I chase the ball in our pyjamas and I miss his shockingly bad karaoke renditions of Neil Diamond’s Forever in Blue Jeans. But I don’t think that missing him has been the saddest part of the past 10 years. I often think about the fact that I will never truly know him.
At 12, your parents are your parents and that is that – they know best, they make the rules and you do as you are told.
However, as the years go by the line between parent and friend starts to blur. I am now at an age where I can class my mum as one of my best friends and it hurts my heart to think of what could have been with my dad. I can only rely on fading childhood memories, and stories being passed down from relatives and friends to grasp an idea of what he was like outside of his role as father.
Aside from the fact that this year marks a decade since his death, 2017 marks poignant year in my own life as I prepare to graduate from university and fly the nest – two of the most important moments of my life that my dad won’t be here to see.
Unlike my siblings, I was lucky to have my dad present for my first day of high school – my youngest brother, Luc, didn’t even have a father to see him on his first day of primary school.
But I wasn’t able to share my excitement of getting into university with my dad, and I know that when I graduate I will miss him more than ever.
The saying goes “it’s who you look for in a crowded room”, and I know