Updated 9 January 2026 for dead links. Same sentiments.

Archive Post Updated: My Dad Moved On….

So it is exactly three weeks to the day since my father went away.

His transition was swift and somewhat unexpected, at least in that moment. From what I could see, it appeared to be fairly painless. That said, he never complained about pain. So honestly, who knows how much he was experiencing?

I am already in the process of writing a post for his own blog about his “ultimate flight”. It’s all about his final movements and his passing. This one, however, is more personal. It is about my reaction to his departure.

I am not sure it will be interesting to anyone other than me. And I think that is OK. This is, after all, my personal blog. And at the very least, it will be cathartic.

“On Standby for the Ultimate Flight”

It was two days before Christmas when he moved on. Unfortunate timing, perhaps. And yet, in many ways, I can see that it happened exactly as it was meant to.

Right on divine schedule, you might say.

He had recently started joking that he was on standby for the ultimate flight. To heaven, of course.

I suspect he knew his time was coming.

He would say, “I think God may be mad at me for not taking better care of my shell.”

The body, he said, was only something he was renting.

Yes, he was ready.

I am just not sure he expected it to be that day.

Christmas Was Early This Year – Thankfully

Looking back, I feel truly blessed that we had one really good week together before his ultimate departure.

We went on drives, took trips to his favourite places like the Dollar Store and Costco. There were walks, some sun basking and taking selfies. He fed the squirrels.

Watching TV was our fave past time so we spent hours watching TV together. We’d long conversations about the abrupt exit of one of the Blue Bloods characters. That was the same weekend he made his own exit.

Oh and we set up a wee Christmas tree together too…bit blurry but doesn’t he look happy?

Last Christmas…

As for Christmas, I am deeply grateful that we celebrated it on the Friday night, the 21st of December.

My sister Wendy and Rich hosted a lovely festive family gathering at their place. My nieces were there. Other family members too. Along with a few friends. I also met my great nephew, AJ, for the first time.

So at least we had a Christmas of sorts before the actual Christmas Day. I didn’t know it at the time it’d be our last Christmas.

The next day, Saturday, we were out and about collecting the twenty dollars he had won from a lottery scratcher. A gift from Wendy and Rich. He was talking about how he was almost ready to tackle a trip to Costco. And actually go inside this time. Not just stay in the car.

On the way back from picking up his winnings at 7 Eleven, I pushed him around his neighbourhood in his wheelchair. We took in the Christmas lights. The photo below is one of the last selfies we ever took together.

It was a happy time. His spirits seemed good to me. Or at least he was faking it well. I am still not entirely sure.

And Then He Was Gone…

Sunday afternoon, I came back from a family outing with my sister, nieces and baby AJ, and he just did’t look right. He was shaking all over. I thought he needed to go to hospital. I called the hospice nurse. Two hours or so later, before she could even arrive, he was gone. At least in the physical sense.

Honestly, in the moment he left, I never saw it coming.

There was no Hollywood ending. No last minute “I love yous”. Our last conversation was about peeing.

Really. I am not kidding.

So yes, it was all a bit of a shock.

That night, after they took his body away, I couldn’t sleep. I kept repeating to myself, “well, huh, that just happened”.

I shook my head in disbelief. Pure shock.

“Doing Good – All Things Considered”

Since he moved on, I have handled it almost better than expected.

Not that anyone knows how they will handle the loss of their person – especially the most special person in their life.

From the day I was born, until the day he left, he was my best friend, my biggest supporter, and my one true hero.

So it would stand to reason that I might completely melt down when his physical ending came about.

I assumed I would. but honestly, I didn’t.

I have not.

Messages have been coming to me from all four corners of the world – on every platform that I am on.

My usual response is, “I am doing good all things considered”.

I mean it. I am.

Why? I think for several reasons.

For one, I was there by his side. Had I not been here, and he had died alone, or even with others, I would be plagued with mental stories about it all. But the fact that I was there with him as he took his last breaths has been a true comfort to me.

Again, he was ready to go. He told me often.

In fact, every time I would leave to head back to Scotland over the past few years, he would remind me that if he should pass in my absence, it really was OK.

He would say his bucket was empty. There was nothing left on his bucket list. He had led a full life.

There are many other reasons I am doing better than expected. But ultimately, it comes down to how I have chosen to perceive his transition.

We have always been close. My whole life. Even the five thousand miles that separated us for half of it never severed our connection. So I believe that bond is just as strong now, even though he is not physically here.

In the first few days without him, I described my vision of him as millions of little particles of love surrounding me.

Pure source energy. Pure love.

We All Grieve Differently

Everyone experiences death in their own way. People also grieve loss differently. At different times. In different seasons of life.

I am grieving this experience differently to how I did when my mother passed twenty-five years ago.

I have more life experience now and a very different perspective on death than I did then.

I am handling this OK because of the way I have chosen to process his passing. Namely, that he is still here with me. It is just that he exists in a different form. On a different frequency, if you will.

It may be ego talking, but I believe I knew him better than anyone. Ever.

I knew what he would say in response to almost anything. So I am still having conversations with him. Just as I always have. Except now, instead of being through Skype, they are timeless and limitless.

Instead of the physical separation we so often had, he is here. Now. Omnipresent. A hotline to dad.

There have already been a few peculiar signs that he is still with me. And whether I am being delusional or not doesn’t really matter, does it? Coincidence or not, it brings me comfort. And that, for me, is reason enough.

My New Life Begins

So when I say that my new life begins, I mean how I continue living with the day to day happenings of life while still feeling deeply connected to my father, in spite of his transition.

I choose not to be a grieving wreck or to live in sadness about his passing.

Instead, I ask myself, “how can I best go on to honour him and his legacy?” And “how can I keep this new form of love alive?”

Ralph Says Things, Still

He had a habit of saying things that stuck. Observations. One liners. Bits of quiet wisdom. They surface now and then. In my head. In my writing. Occasionally on my social media. And every time they do, it feels right.

We talked ideas for tshirts and merch constantly. Daily. He loved coming up with them. Sometimes he would forget and suggest something we had already done. That was just life and his memory. And it always made me smile.

More than anything, he wanted me to be happy. To be healthy. To see the world. To make new friends. To have adventures. To be successful in whatever way mattered to me.

I believe he is with me as I do all of that.

I like to think that one day I will see him again. In whatever form that takes.

Ralph was a great grandfather, grandfather, father, brother, uncle, hero and he was, and always will be, my best friend.

Gone physically, yes. But never forgotten. Ever.

This is one of the last photographs of us ever taken. It will remain one of my favourite pictures of us. Ever. I will cherish it until my last breath.

I am toying with the idea of making a documentary. I am not sure how long it might end up being. It is simply something that is marinating in my mind as this new life begins. Or maybe I will spend some time writing a book. AI is helping me breathe new life into him – think Ralph 2.0.

As I sit here, I am surrounded by photographs and documents from his life. From birth to his passing. It was quite a life. I am grateful to have been a large part of it.

xoxo from Glasgow, T.