Father’s Day stories

mercifully rapid. Just as he always wanted the best for us, we now did for him, although suffering was never supposed to be on the menu.

At first, he was only just aware of why I was there – cooking, cleaning, taking him places. As time went on, he understood even less. I had to keep a sense of humour when he wore someone else’s clothes to the shops, made coffee in bowls, and went in the lingerie section while out shopping.

But leaving my life in London as a party-going 20-something to nurse my father was the best thing I could have done. As his care for me faded, my care for him evolved. As I became more independent, he became more dependent. Life had come full circle.

We all go out like we come in, as they say. When Dad did go in April 2008, there were some echoes of my arrival: hospital beds, medical staff, then flowers, cards, church. But there were no congratulations.

I now look back on this with more celebration, as his passing marked the end of a great life. I am honoured to have been there for him. There are times when it feels like he’s right here with me, like when I see something on TV that would make him swear (hello,

Newsnight), or at rugby matches. Sometimes, when I see an old man with a tweed flat cap on, walking with his hands behind his back, my heart stops for a moment. When I listen to his Louis Armstrong records, I hear Dad’s voice, and if I read his battered old copy of The Old Man And The

Sea, I smell his cologne.

My husband, Andy, and I are about to become parents, and so the circle of life begins again. To my great joy, Andy is already the most caring father figure, and I vow to take the baton of life Dad handed me with every ounce of his strength, wisdom and humour.’

My Mad Dad: The Diary Of An Unravelling Mind by Robyn Hollingworth (Trapeze) is out now.

‘I am honoured to have been there for my dad’