It is 128 years today since you were born within the sound of Bow Bells in London, England and 42 years since you silently slipped away from us.
There is rarely a day that passes when I don't think of you, but my thoughts of you are extra special today. How thankful I am that owing to your ill health, following a bout of the Spanish flu following WW1, you were told by the doctors to move to a warmer land. You left a beautiful home and a very good job to emigrate to Western Australia to take up farming. If you'd not made that decision I would never have met you and mum.
I am always so grateful that you both decided you'd like a baby daughter (you already had a son of nearly 21 whose mother had died when he was little) and it was me that you chose to be that daughter. You may have had some Victorian ideas but you were a fantastic father and looked after me so well. In fact you both did and I know at times you probably went without to give me a good life and a good education for which I have always been very grateful.
I was always sorry I didn't see more of you when my two children were young but that decision was taken out of my hands by mum's actions. We won't go into that now but it was a sad time in my life. It was wonderful that we resumed our relationship in later years and my kiddies got to meet their grandfather. You were always so good with little ones and I regret my two didn't know you when they were small.
Your photo is up on the mantlepiece today; not that I need to see it to be reminded of you but just to give you pride of place on your special day. I feel so close to you today.
Love from your daughter xxxx