Six years gone now.

It is six years today that my father died from a major heart attack following hip-replacement surgery. Yesterday evening as I was driving the kids home from karate, Little Princess brought up this fact, and Buddy Boy said we should have a toast for him. I suggested we have the toast with a sip from the last of the fortified wine he made to keep on windowsills during the winter months should we feel ourselves coming down with a sore throat or other cold symptoms. I still have half a one-litre plastic pop-bottleful in the liquor cupboard way at the back.

The kids remembered how they would press the fermented grapes with my dad in the cellar and he would take some of the runoff in a glass, sip it, spit it out into the laundry sink and say, "Ah! That's good stuff!" smiling all the while. When they were little, they thought this was hilarious and shocking. Little Princess commented that she didn�t remember seeing Granddad smile all that often, especially towards the end when he was in such great pain with his decaying joint.

I wrote a tribute to him a while back, and I feel like linking to it now. So, if you've got a minute, please read about my father.

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