Farewell to my fun, kind and loving dad

I INTENDED to write cheerily about sending Valentines to anybody we care for. But first thing on Tuesday morning we heard my father, Ted Mooney, had died peacefully in his sleep in the nursing home where he has lived for a month.

That night I had prayed very hard indeed that Dad would be released from suffering. He had dementia, was nearly blind, refused a Covid vaccination, no longer wanted to eat, felt tired and fed up. In truth, his time had come.

We, his family, have so much to be glad about. We enjoyed a precious family Christmas (‘three households’ plus my parents, who are a part of our ‘bubble’) and I knew it would be his last.

Surrounded by his beloved grandchildren and greatgrandchildren, he smiled in his paper hat. January 1 was his 99th birthday — marked by lunch at ours (he loved my cooking), and then the family standing in the cold outside the patio doors to sing Happy Birthday. He told my son: ‘You know I’m always here for you.’

And so he was. Always there for us all — until it was no longer possible, because of age and infirmity.

But the soul goes on being willing, doesn’t it?

I remember all the good things he did: taking me shopping for books when I was 11, making me shelves and wallpapering my university bedsit, driving from Wiltshire to London once (no hesitation) because my first husband and I had a problem with our electricity. Dad liked helping people. It was his raison d’etre.

When my children came along, he and my mother had a new life — as the best grandparents it was possible to be. They were selfless, tireless, full of fun.

Of course, time can be cruel and old age brings so many problems — but I will not allow the stress and troubles of recent years to diminish happy memories of a man who loved his family so much.

Thank you, Dad … and this, after all, is your last Valentine, from your loving daughter.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Scottish Daily Mail, 20 Waterloo Street, Glasgow G2 6DB, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.