I asked my dad to write my wedding speech after he was given 6 months to live. I'm holding on to it for my special day.
I remember the moment my dad told me he had six months to live like it was yesterday. I was sprawled out on the cushiony sofa bed he'd furnished in the corner of his log cabin at the bottom of the garden. On a warm, quiet Sunday morning in mid-March, I was taking respite to the sound of olive-green goldcrests tweeting away in the nearby tree.I glanced outside to see my Dad, two cups of tea in hand. He made his way into the cabin, our dog Monty plodding along behind him. We often spent mornings l...