Dad you are an inspiration to us all, you fought so bravely after losing our dear Mum Nellie 3 years ago. Your heart was well and truly broken, but you tried to carry on without your loving soul mate. There is and only ever will be one Nellie and Harold. Where one went the other one followed. Bonnie and Clyde, Jack and Vera, Nellie and Harold. Two peas in a pod. I should have known you couldn’t carry on without Mum, even though you promised you would. Now we have to rely on our memories and thankfully we have plenty of those. I can still see you, after a few too many beers, dancing round the metal pole in Tipton Sports Union Club. Mum shouting sit down you silly old fool, you laughing and carrying on anyway. You invented pole dancing before anybody else had even thought about it. If the craze hasn’t got to heaven yet Dad, maybe you can start a few classes. Crate of beer on its way to get you started. Suffering as you have the last couple of years, you still carried on fighting and smiling through. I loved to see you smile. As you sat in your chair id keep nagging you. Do your leg exercises. Take your tablets. Drink plenty. Eat your food. Have a shave. Get your hair cut. No wonder you where glad when I went to work. I sometimes wonder how you put up with me. Trying to get you to take Movicol, your laxative was the hardest of all. You where determined not to take it. Little did you know how much you were actually taking. I was putting it in your Coffee, Porridge, Cottage pies, infact anything that I could I would. And let’s face it with only four teeth left your diet was mainly baby food anyway. You’d look at me and just sweetly say, stop bleeding nagging (sometimes something stronger). Our friends had many loving nicknames for you, Victor Meldrew being one of them, yes you lived up to that one many times. But I wouldn’t change you for the world. I’ve since been told how you used to make gestures behind my back too, I’m keeping that one in my back pocket for when we meet again. My affectionate name for you was My Big Cockerel, Mum being the Little Chicken and me being the Little Duck. How that one started, ive no idea, but it stuck like glue and always will. The theme is being carried on by Little Nellie Chicken, out Little Chihuahua. You adored her and she adored you. Her ears still shoot up when I ask her where is Grandad. She still sits by your chair waiting for you to come home and play with her, probably so she can bite you again. During your stay in hospital you won the nurses and doctors over, singing to them, having pet names for them. Ive never know a patient to be visited by so many staff, one nurse finishing her night shift on one ward and came to visit you on another ward before going home. Another telephoned the hospital from home after she had finished her shift to see if you where ok. One night they where even arguing over who was going to care for you, they all wanted to. Of course they had to get past me first and I was stuck to your bedside still nagging you. In fact the final words we spoke went like this.... Dad, want a drink No Dad, want some food I dow (proper Black Country speak) Dad, want a fag I do Well you’re not having one I said. You slowly moved your eyes towards me and said Pain in the bum (or words to that affect) Dad I will never forget those last words, I know they where meant lovingly. Now you can have your cigarette. We were all so proud of you how bravely you coped with your operation, no fears, not caring about it at all. All this from a man who was terrified to go to the dentist and have his last four teeth pulled out. And yes Dad I have found the two rotten teeth that you had pulled out and hidden in your lap tray in the front room. Thanks for that. I really thought your operation would be a turning point and that you would walk again, or at least stand up. We had so many plans, places to go. Me carrying Little Nellie Chicken in one of her designer bags, you by my side on your scooter with your Dad 1 number plate. Incidentally we got that because when we were out shopping people used to look at us and you could see them nudging each other saying he looks old to her. It was either a number plate or matching his and her T shirts. We really thought you would prove people wrong, little did we know what was round the corner. Of course Dad, you did, you had made up your mind a while ago that you wanted to be back with Mum, I just didn’t want to believe it. I may think I’m invincible, but even I couldn’t stand in the way of true love and devotion. I could talk about you all day Dad, but just as Mums horses did 3 years ago, they have probably poo’d all over the carpark too. Oh I do hope so. A final gift from you. No MOVICOL REQUIRED. DAD ITS TIME FOR YOUR FINAL FLIGHT Your time was far too brief We will try not to lengthen it with grief. Lift our hearts and share with you Your final journey, off you go. Sleep tight My Big Cockerel, We love you.