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The Visitor

My dad is my hero. He’s a hero to me. But also to the other 7 billion people on this planet. He’s in the army, parachute regiment to be exact. 18 years he’s served the country, 18 years of training, 3 tours in Afghanistan and 4 medals. The only problem is that my brother and I hardly ever get to see him, maybe one weekend a month, a whole week if we’re lucky. I suppose, if I think about it in a not so selfish way, that he is saving lives or at least training to save lives when he’s not home. By the way, I’m Emi, and this is the diary I kept from my most memorable Christmas.

December 1^st

Every year at this time I start to think to myself, “Will he be home for Christmas.” First door opened on my chocolate calendar but no sign of Dad. He’s cutting it fine this year. Mum said he’s in Afghanistan until the 17^th of December. That’s so close to Christmas. I really hope he makes it back in time; I can’t deal with another Christmas without my Dad.

December 14^th

The suspense is building now. Days are beginning to drag. A lot. I don’t know what time he’s expected but it better be before I go to bed. I love Christmas, it’s my favourite time of year. Especially those years my Dad comes home. I’ve bought him his present; I put so much thought and effort into it. It’s a photo, well a collage of photos of the four of us, our favourite photos, holidays and memories all in one frame. He can take it with him on his next tour I thought.

December 16^th

It’s only now when I begin to realise that the time has gone so fast. Tomorrow! Only one more sleep until I can see my father, it’s been so long, about 3 months in total of not having a Dad, but as I think more and more about it I start to wonder, would it still be our family if it wasn’t how it is? Would there still be that bond and that pure joy when we are all finally together on those rare occasions?

 

December 17^th, today was meant to be the day, you could feel the excitement buzzing around the house, everyone had a huge smile, and there was a slight skip in everyone’s step as we set up the decorations for the welcome home party. Mum had said that he was meant to be arriving home at 12 o’clock. The suspense was killing me. 12 o’clock had come and gone then 2 o’clock and still nothing. By now all the guests, including Nan and Bamps had gone home as they had to make their own preparations for Christmas, I suppose everyone was ok with it as it’s always better just the four of us.

Then finally at half past 3, the doorbell rang. My little brother jumped up and screeched with excitement as the three of us ran to the front door, mum swung it open.

But it wasn’t Dad? But instead, some middle aged grey man in a suit, an army suit, but still, we were all puzzled. I looked at mum. Her face had dropped as a tear slowly sprinted down her cheek onto her wobbling chin. She burst out crying.

“I'm very sorry ma’am,” he spoke up as he handed her a letter.

Mum collapsed as she pealed it from his slight fingers. At that moment it struck me. No more Christmases as the four of us. That was it. I later found out that this man was my Father’s sergeant. Or big boss man as Dad liked to call him.

December 25^th – Christmas Day

You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. It didn’t feel like Christmas at all. But instead a plain old day, I don’t think it had hit me that last year was the last Christmas I would spend with my father. I miss it. I miss him. I miss our family. The four of us.

 

New year’s didn’t get much better, his coffin was brought back to the UK in time for his funeral. I didn’t know how to say good bye or even I couldn’t get the words out through all the tears. My last gesture to him was his Christmas present; I gently placed it in the side of his coffin during the service. This way I know that he will always have his happiest memories close by to him.

“Here lies a soldier, husband and loving father, hero to our country and hero to his family”