by amy perry

Created on: June 20, 2008

The last time I saw my father we had a huge arguement over something petty. It ended when I stormed off crying with my little boy shouting "I'm just going to kill myself then and no one will notice I've gone!"
Unbeknown to myself that was the last time I would see or speak to my dad again. It was strange that night because I had a strong urge to text him and apologise which never didn't happen as I was adamant I was right in the arguement. Whilst I was sleeping I had a strange dream in which I saw my dad going up in the air. There was bright light all around him and lots of white lillies. I didn't think much of the dream the next morning as I was preoccupied with packing as me, my partner and our child were due to go on holiday the next day.

My mum came to see me for a cup of tea before she went to work. About 30 minutes after she left I had a phone call from my brother. He sounded terrible like he had been crying and I knew something bad had happened. All he said was that dad had had an accident and that he would come and tell me face to face. I turned to my partner and said that I think my dad is dead. He just laughed it off and told me not to be so silly. Waiting for my brother seemed to take hours and I kept looking out for his car to turn up in the street. Dad had gone to Southampton on his motorbike to see some members of the biker gang he was in. I had a feeling of shock but kept telling myself that it must be just a small accident and he was in hospital.

When my brother turned up he didn't seem to have the energy to get out of the car at first but as soon as I looked him in the eye and he uttered the words "dad died" I felt like I couldn't breathe properly and was just in complete shock. I didn't cry I acted quite normal but I must have been in shock and felt I had to be the strong one because I was the eldest of my two siblings.

I rang my mum in work and she was devastated although her and dad had been divorced for 6 years they had been on talking terms. Mum turned up at my house crying and we talked for a bit before driving to my granmothers caravan where she was on holiday. She reacted the same as me and kept going on about how he should have been more careful.

There was an inquest in which we found out that dad had been driving his motorbike too fast and had gone into the central reservation of a dual carriageway. He was also very drunk so he had obviously misjudged his speed. The people who he had been with urged him to stay but he wanted to go back home.

What saddens me is that he thought the world of my little boy and always talked about how he would take my son fishing and buy him a rod. Now my son will never even remember his grandfather let alone join him at the riverside all because the stupid fool drank too much and went to fast. But that was his motto "live fast die young"

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