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MY DAD 💫

This day 28 yrs ago, my father died in an aircrash in Kathmandu aged only 37. The same age that I am now. 
It is particularly poignant this year to know I am older than he ever was, that I have walked more days on this earth than him. He was my rock, my place of safety, my protector. He was so strong & physically solid that it was hard to conceive for any of us that knew him, that he could truly be gone. In an instant.We had dreams that maybe he was walking the Himalayas or living in the mountains where the plane crashed with amnesia somewhere having forgotten who he was & that someday he would reappear & reunite with us all. 
It was no doubt an event that shaped all our lives forever &  the ghost of its memory still tries to inform choices that I make today. Fears about safety. About flying. A need to be in control... 
And now with my own son who never got to meet my father who he is so like, there is a deep sadness. And yet a realisation that life is so very precious. That we must grab it with both hands & squeeze everything we can out of it while we have the chance. 
When he died my father was being hailed as “ one of Britain’s finest romantic poets “ & so today I wanted to share a poem he wrote about me. It is extremely special to me as it remains an unwavering connection between us like an umbilical cord joining us with his words of love . 

TO LYDIA 

How can mere blood and bone 
contrive
To house such characteristics, 
The silken flesh, the sweet pea breath, 
Clean shapes of face and form, 
A vital charm of changing features.

Add to this the brain and it’s secret work, the control of thought and action.
Also a sense of colour, dream and dance 
And an inherited complexity of moods, 
All in this one small person. 

I never cease to wonder and reflect 
For mine she is, I claim her, 
The consequence of love and longing. 
Forgive the foulness of this conceit 
But how could I have wished for more? 

Dominic Sasse 

Ps I want to note here my ever growing appreciation for my wonderful mum, who managed to raise us & surround us with her love even when she was struggling with her own grief. I know it is often a thankless task being the one left behind x
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