Dear Ellie

I keep hearing the warmth of his voice, sad that just the memory of it is all I will now have and it makes me realise what a lovely voice it was. His mother, my grandmother was a singer, now I realise how much melody was in the pitch and intonation of his every word. For years I have known my Dad as a speech maker he could make them at the drop of a hat, and in the last few years I have noticed as his faculties shifted that some kind of social functioning was something he would fall back on - hence the need to introduce people to each other. Always falling back on his social role. But now as I hear Ellie, Dear Ellie I realise how much his voice spoke to me as his daughter, it was a voice that could almost caress. (Ellie wasn't even the name he had given me at birth but he did not demure, but invested it, a bit like David Attenborough does with value).

A good friend of mine told me tell him you love him, and I did as he lay dying. I who had spent so much of my life waiting for him to tell me that finally got round to saying it. It did not sound very authentic. My farewell had more warmth and love in it as it was more natural, but I am glad I said it and now realise how much I should have said it - now that it is too late, because now I understand the warmth that was in his voice and how much care he felt - not just for me,  but for all those he spoke to.

But hopefully those good times together, maybe even in my battles with him, maybe he understood how much he mattered.