Today five years ago my beloved father died in his sleep at the relatively young age of sixty nine. My Father died suddenly in his sleep in pretty much great health and before the birth of two of his grandchildren of whom he would have no doubt adored.

Even after five years I am still in many ways are grieving for my father – a grief although dulling with time will never go away. I miss my father – my mentor and my friend. Now I realize the truth and luck in choosing my father to be my best man at my wedding simply because he was – and is – the best man I have ever known. Every month I raise a single smokey Scottish malt whiskey in celebration and toast to the man who was my father. So many good memories, and twinges of pain at never having the opportunity to say goodbye. I look at today’s papers at the awful news of families and children slaughtered in Syria by a Government desperate to keep power, and in Afghanistan by an American solder “gone rogue”; I was lucky to have been brought up, known, and molded by a man of honour and substance – my father.

I still miss you dad. You are still my hero.

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