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I really need to talk to someone who lives in a cicada superbloom area.

I have questions that I need answered to write this script accurately!!!

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Sorry to only come on tumblr to be sad, but sometimes I don't know how I'm supposed to function with this amount of grief in my body

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I had to rewatch Hacks S1 for work.

I first watched it a couple of years ago and I’d completely forgotten how the season ends and I’m in tears and I miss my Dad so fucking much.

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Six months since my Dad died because the hospital fucked up.

I'm still so full of rage and sadness and I don't know what to do with it all, where to put it all.

I miss him so fucking much.

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I miss my Dad so fucking much.

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I've been away from tumblr for a few months. In October 2021, my Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 neuroendocrine pancreatic cancer. I felt like my whole world was falling apart. He already followed me on tumblr, so I filled my feed with things he would like so he had something new and interesting (or a cute cat) to see every day. (I was already posting a lot for him, but now my queue was entirely for him.) It was a small thing, but I wanted to do anything to help make him smile or distract him. As it was a neuroendocrine cancer, there were treatment options, and soon he was back to living life as if nothing was wrong. But I still kept my queue running for him. In November 2023, a scan was misread. They told my Dad his cancer was responding well to treatment, and he wouldn't need any more nuclear medicine for two years. Unfortunately, this mistake meant my Dad passed away on January 26th 2024. There's no question that this is the worst thing to ever happen to me. My Dad is the person I am/was closest to in the whole world. I've never felt pain like this. I don't know what to do with my tumblr now. I've had it for over a decade, but I've been posting for my Dad for so long that it feels wrong to post without him. I know that's silly. I just miss him so much.

I'm going to post the eulogy I wrote for him below the cut. I don't expect anyone to read it, but I want it to exist somewhere online. I'm really proud of it. It has mistakes - repetitions of words etc. - but I also think it's the best thing I've ever written, because it's about my Dad.

As a professional writer, I’ve felt a lot of pressure to write a eulogy that does my Dad justice. The problem is, I don’t think that’s possible. Especially without him here to give me notes. My Dad has always given me his opinion on my writing at whatever stage it was at, bouncing ideas back and forth with me and arguing over intricate punctuation but, on this occasion, he can’t. I hope he’d like this anyway.

I could talk forever about my Dad. There are so many things I want to tell people about him, about his love and excitement for the world and his joy in getting to live each day. To quote Marcus Aurelius, as my Dad often did, “When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” This sentiment defined him, really.

My Dad and I have so much in common. We traded books back and forth. He introduced me to his favourite shows and I showed him mine. He showed me his favourite movies from when he was growing up, and we were always first in line to see new releases at the Odeon in Wrexham. I would spend hours hanging out on the couch in his study as he worked and played music, talking me through his love and admiration of various songs and bands, like Led Zeppelin, Genesis, The Jam, The Smiths. We talked a mile a minute over dinner, always excited to share whatever new thing we’d learned that day. We experimented with various recipes and he gave me my love of cooking. We debated politics constantly, always talked about what was in the news, forwarded interesting posts and memes to each other across multiple social media platforms. Even when I lived on another continent we were in contact with each other every day, keeping track of our respective timezones so we could always find time to talk.

My heart aches every time I read a news article about some interesting new archaeological finding or a new discovery in space, because I want to share it with him. There are so many movies we planned to see, upcoming TV shows we wanted to watch, books we were waiting to be released.

I want to talk to him about the new Taylor Swift album and the Grammys she just won. As some of you may know, my Dad was a Swiftie – he was in the top 0.5% of Taylor Swift Spotify listeners last year. He was a fan of her before I was, often falling asleep to her 1989 album on international flights. He bought us tickets to see her Eras Tour together this summer and we were so excited. I can’t describe the pain I felt when last month he told me that I’d have to go and enjoy it without him. Because he should be here to see it with me. He loved stained glass – even taking classes and making his own artwork. He promised to teach me this summer, and now I’ll have to do it without him. But I’ll still do it. Like I’ll still go to the Eras concert – because it’s what he would have wanted, and because it keeps his memory alive.

I recognise how lucky I am that he is my Dad. So many things had to happen to make it so. Various ancestors had to meet and have children. My parents needed to be born, needed to both decide to go to the same university, needed some anonymous admin person to assign them both to the same university halls where they would ultimately meet. All so that one day I would come in to being and he would be my Dad. The chances of that happening, for everything to have gone right, are so infinitesimally small. And yet they happened. How miraculous is that?

I am who I am because of him. As a young man, he reviewed books for The Oxford Times and Interzone, a Sci-Fi and Fantasy magazine. (He was particularly proud to interview Terry Pratchett, his favourite author, and have his quote used on Pratchett’s books for years to come). He fell in love with stories and storytelling, a love that he passed down to me. Without him, I don’t know if I would have become a screenwriter and author. Storytelling is such a huge part of me, and I don’t know who I’d be without it, and without him. 

There are so many big, impressive things that my Dad did and achieved through his lifetime, but the things that make up a life are the smaller moments. My parents dancing around his study to God Only Knows by The Beach Boys. His love of all our cats across the years and his special relationship with each of them. The time we went out into the garden, on a freezing cold night in November, to watch the Leonids – shooting stars – falling brightly through the atmosphere. Picking me up from Gobowen station every time I came back from London or undergrad, no matter how late my train was. His specific way of stacking the dishwasher that only I could emulate. Summer holidays swimming in the pool, eating ice cream together, and marvelling over his tan.

The problem with loving my Dad so much is that it’s incredibly painful now he’s gone. One of his favourite Marvel TV shows, Wandavision, had the line “what is grief, if not love persevering?” There is so much grief because there has always been so much love between us. And I am thankful for that. Thankful for him, and everything he has done to build a beautiful life for our family.

My Dad’s last words were beautiful. Something we often said to each other, from childhood to adulthood, was “I love you more than the moon, and the stars, and the wide, wide world”. I started saying it to him, none of us knowing the end was hurtling so quickly towards us. He smiled as I began to say the familiar words, and as my Mum and brother joined in, so did he, still smiling as he said “and the wide, wide world”. And that was it.

'To reference Marcus Aurelius once more, he talks in Meditations about how just a day–just a minute–of happiness, of perfection, of peace, is enough. The same goes for the people we love. That we ever had my Dad in the first place is a wonderful thing, something to be so grateful for. Whatever comes after, whatever fortune has in store for us in the future? It can’t change that. What happens next matters less because of the wonderfulness of having had my Dad at all.'

He is my best friend. He will always be my best friend. Whatever happened, I knew he would look after me. That he loved me and cared for me and that with him I was safe. He would look after our family, always. And he did. Even now we’re discovering things he did and put in place to make sure we were okay.

I know I need to stop talking, although, as I said at the beginning, I could talk forever about my Dad. I will finish with a quote from Terry Pratchett: “No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.” Hopefully my Dad will live forever.

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“Every Italian noble in the medieval commune era” - ENGLISH SUBTITLES

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Fog Spirits dancing in the Moonlight by Kinko White

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Cat selfie at a food court. Comic practice

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Fondly remembering the time that a cat owner casually entered their calico Maine Coon in a cat fancier’s competition and the judges lost their minds because the cat was 1) male and 2) able to bear children

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