My father died three months ago on 7/7/07. I have not managed to bring myself to write anything so far on this website, but today I am sat here listening to Amy Winehouse just knowing that dad would have loved her for her flowing dark locks, if nothing else. Since my father died my sun has gone down. I walk home now, at the beggining of autumn and see the most beautiful sunsets, the most beautiful I have seen in the world, and I can't help but feel like he's missing out on something. He's missing out on me, and I'm missing out on him. It was only when I arrived home after 18 months of travelling that I realised how proud my dad was of me. I spoke to people that I may never have met, but because of his illness I got to meet them and they told me how much he talked of me and my travels. I had no idea, and it made me feel so humble. My only wish is that he could have been there with me, and now I hope that he follows me in my dreams and memories, as if he were there. He told me of his illness when I arrived home, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I had never heard of Motor Neurone Disease. My only wishes are that I had been there from the beginning, and that I knew how little time I had. I am just glad I was there at the end, even though I never really knew what went through his head. In those last days I was just there. We never said goodbye with words, but we didn't need to.