Never got to send him an email

Twenty years ago tonight my father collapsed and died aged only 52. When I type twenty I have to try and work out that that’s almost half the time I’ve been on the planet. It seems such a long time ago and yet like yesterday.

He collapsed suddenly, passed instantly thankfully and was unaware of what was happening and that is the only blessing I can take from it.

He got me hooked on programming in 1982, thirty five years ago, an addiction that delivered me a career. He never got to meet my wife, meet my kids. Ironically the time he died I’d been “online” for years and although he had a fax modem in his computer he never used email although he was aware of Compuserve and other services and the dial up internet bills. Hence he treated it with caution.

I never got to send my dad an email. I wish I could now. When I say wish – I’d give everything I have to see a reply arrive in my inbox, just once. Kills me inside.

Tonight my wife is out escaping motherhood for a deserved break and I’m going to have some quiet time listening to R.E.M just like I did in the small quiet hours after he died. Messrs Mills, Berry, Buck and Stipe can sing me to my slumber, soundtrack to my solace.

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