I wrote this a few months ago, I had planned on posting it but never did. I think, if I’m being honest, I was just done with funerals and death and dark questions around WHY certain people died. Alan’s funeral was on 30th June this year.
But I realise now that I should still share it, because the more we talk about grief, the more we can bring it out into the light and make it less scary, it might help us all cope a little easier from day to day.
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My best mate’s husband passed away a couple of weeks ago, his funeral was on Monday. He was 50. Cancer can fuck right off.
The day was marked as a celebration and we were requested to wear colourful outfits so I managed to source a wonderful Hawaiian shirt featuring pages from the first Superman comic book. Very Alan, well the comic book part, he was far too stylish to actually wear something like that but I think he would’ve enjoyed it.
He always had a kind word, always noticed little things like that, would comment on a new t-shirt, or new shoes, with a smile. He had so much love for others.
I saw him a couple of weeks before he died, he was, as he always was, in good spirits, laughing off his ailments and asking after me and Becca and Jack. He was selfless that way, always a good listener, a thoughtful man, but quick to disarm with lightning wit and cheeky sarcasm. He was the type of person you instantly liked, because no matter how you found him he was just fun to be around.
The tributes to him on Monday highlighted all that and more. As someone who at times has struggled to understand what type of person I am, it was telling that Alan’s authenticity is what shone through, he was who he was and was consistent with it throughout his life from childhood to his later life.
I was lucky enough to be his husband Stuart’s best man for their wedding (still one of my fav weddings, what a great day that was!), and have been blessed to know Alan and feel his love and support when I was going through my own dark times over the past year. He is gone far too soon but there are many wonderful fun memories to hold close.
Grief is such an odd thing, losing my Mum and sister in quick succession has put an odd light on Alan’s death. I don’t like that but I can’t really control it.
I know that Stuart, my best friend, will struggle without him. Even though they’ve had time to adjust to this happening it’s still no preparation at all, how do you really prepare for losing your partner, the love of your life? I can barely imagine it.
And while I know that the grief will get easier, I also know it will sit with him for a long time. Past the first anniversaries of things ‘since Alan passed’ and beyond. It will pop up and shake him at the oddest times, a tiny trigger is all it will take.
I know this because I had such grand plans to use Uncle Alan to help educate Jack on comic books and pop culture. I will do my best regardless, but even now when Jack plays with the toys that Stuart and Alan bought for his Christmas last year (a batman car) I can’t help but feel the maudlin effect of death in the room.
But there is so much to remember about Alan that makes me smile, so many things I absolutely and definitely will NOT be repeating here (did I mention his filthy mind?), and memories I will cherish. Gone far too soon, but he will be remembered for a lifetime.
Saying goodbye to Alan
What kind of man?
As a chronic over thinker (much of which I’ve inflicted on you here, dear reader) it’s fair to say that how to be a good father and how to set a good example to my son, are major topics in my brain on any given day. I replay moments wondering how to do better next time, I store away the successes with the hope I can repeat them and embed the behaviours. I don’t want to create my son in my own image, but I want him to have every chance to discover himself and, as long as he’s not a dick, that should be a good start.
But there is so much more to these things these days, nuance is something the internet struggles with, critical thinking seems to be absent in many places, and men seem to have been swept along and divide along class/education lines. My son is 4, I have time, but what will his future look like? What challenges will he face that I can help him prepare for?
I’ve written many words on this topic already, and have many more in my head but, for now, I’ll share this video (brought to me by the excellent Dense Discovery newsletter to which you really should subscribe) about what it may be like for many men these days, and the dangers that lie online, ones my son may face in the future.
To quote Kai from his newsletter (and sub quote the presenter of the video below), the final sentence is the one that drove me to watch the whole thing:
I loved (and can attest to) this observation Reeves makes about how men communicate:“One of the things we know is that men communicate more comfortably with each other shoulder to shoulder, as opposed to face to face. When men are face to face with each other, that’s quite a threatening position. Now, if I tell you this, you won’t be able to unsee it. If you want to communicate with young men, go fishing, go for a drive, go for a hike.”
And I like that he acknowledges these differences without pathologising them: “You could roll your eyes at that and just say, ‘Oh, what’s wrong with men?’ But we have to be really careful not to treat men like defective women, or vice versa.”
That last sentence speaks to me, the feminising of emotional care is rife. As a man, you should be able to handle your emotions, to speak of them is weak, and it’s subtle and it’s everywhere, and the ‘alpha males’ start to grow, broken, weak men that claim to be superior to others. I know my son won’t be one of them, but my generation is still in the trenches on this stuff. Some of us are fighting our way out, but far too many are still there and whilst it may be a ‘male’ view to use war as a metaphor, I don’t think it’s understating how serious this is. Look at how the world is playing out, the first vestiges of this are written large, the next generation of men need to change it and we need to equip them.
Systemised Unspending
Many years ago I downsized where I lived, I got rid (sold/donated/trashed) a lot of stuff and, for the most part, I’ve not missed any of it.
Since then I’ve built up more stuff again but with a slightly different slant and I’m confident that I don’t have the same volume, and the things I do have are better considered and, because I’m a geek, I’ve got my own little ‘system’ to help me maintain this moving forward.
For a while now I’ve used Amazon as a place to hold a list of things I might buy. I add them to my basket and then save them for later (this way means I get notice of price drops/rises).
It has helped me stop buying stuff on a whim. Mostly for smaller cheaper purchases as anything of value I tend to do some research on. Define value, you say?
Well, as an example, we are thinking about buying a telescope to take with us when we are away in Vera (our motorhome). The market is full of lots of different options and wildly varying capabilities and price, so I’ve done some research and narrowed it down to one that isn’t too expensive (£80) and has the capability of star and planet gazing, and maybe a nebula or two if we are lucky.
And as we spend a lot of time outdoors with Jack, I’m going to invest in a decent pair of binoculars and my research suggests £100 is a reasonable budget for something small enough for a backpack but with enough magnification to be fun to use.
A shorter USB-C cable doesn’t really rate research but I’ll still ‘hold that thought’ and delay buying it.
After my monthly payday I then have a decision to make, do I empty that list or not? How urgent are any of the purchases, how much would the total be and what other outgoings do we have coming up.
It’s taken me a long time to get to this point but I’ve stuck to this approach throughout 2025 and, building on that, it’s also allowed me to step away from Amazon for a lot of online purchases. Amazon is just a tool that I use (and the price tracking is useful) but often I can find the exact same item at a non-global (evil) corporation for the same price, and even if it’s a little more I don’t mind paying that to a small business, it’s not like Amazon needs my money.
Of course this is the equivalent of pissing in the ocean, but it keeps me feeling better about myself and, while I still do purchase some things from Amazon, at least this way I’m not blind buying out of habit.
Top tip: NOT having Amazon Prime usually adds another £5 postage which is yet more friction ahead of the purchase.
I’ve tried various ways to manage my online purchasing – I’ve already cracked the desire to buy items in-person for the most part, largely by remembering that that means interacting with ‘people’ – I’ve used wishlist services, notes, even a reminders list, but right now my current ‘system’ (ugh) is working for me.
More recently, I’ve started to incorporate Vinted into that flow. Still mostly for clothes and shoes, it’s been useful for us getting things for Jack, and I’d much rather buy secondhand if I can, plus it’s usually a LOT cheaper and if you are savvy you can get some great deals – for example I have a pair of Hoka trainers (I have wide flat feet and they’ve been a godsend) which I got for £35. They arrived in. very good condition, worn a few times but no damage or usage was apparent. Normally these retail at £100 and up!
And I use their favouriting system to tag things I am interested in, fully aware that for the most part I have no NEED for new clothes until the ones I’ve currently got start to fail. I do allow myself a little more leeway in terms of buying things on Vinted because, frankly, the world is a shitshow so a new pair of brightly coloured trainers helps lighten MY mood every time I put them on. Hey, these are the ways we cope.
I’m happy that this is all helping me think smarter about my money; not just spending for the sake of it, of being rational and thoughtful about how and where I spend my money and while I’m not claiming to be the best at this – Amazon still sees too much of my money as sometimes convenience will win – I’m definitely better at it than I have been in the past.
So, yes I have a system, no it’s not flawless, and to be specific the system works just fine but I AM the flaw (Judge Dredd fans out there, I’m sorry!).
How do you manage your impulse buy urges?
Jack is Four
So much I could say here; four years since he arrived, so many milestones passed in this last year alone. I could write about how well he’s doing, how much I love him (more than I ever thought possible), and how much of a cheeky chops he is turning out to be (which shocks no-one less than his parents, trust me!).
I write to him every month (he can read the letters later) and it strikes me that without really realising it, we seem to be raising a smart, funny, kind boy. And regardless of his life path, as long as he isn’t a dick, I will be there to support him, cheer him on, stand beside him, and catch him if needed.
I still count my blessings that I am his Dad, still believe that he is the best thing to happen to me (after Becca of course, she was fairly fundamental to all of this!) and that I’m a better person for it. Better in that perma-tired way other parents understand, but I don’t mind that. It’s worth it for all the little moments when he smiles at me, or whispers “I love you too Daddy” when I put him to bed. I could do without the knee drops off the sofa onto my back mind you…
Four years already, gone in the blink of an eye. Hey, whaddya know, those cliches are true.
The shape of grief
It would’ve been my Dad’s birthday yesterday, he would’ve been 79.
I didn’t post about it yesterday, more by happenstance than planning, but I did think about him and one thing struck me. I think more about my Dad on any given day than I do about my Mum or my sister.
Now, I’m not attributing scores nor logging time spent or any other quantifiable means for this but it only really struck me last night. I was lying in bed reading a book but couldn’t really focus on it as the scene I was reading happened to be a daughter reunited with her father after a few months apart. My Dad passed 5 years ago but I realised that if I had one choice to make, it would be to bring him back for a day (a la Ian and Barley, and yes my social constructs are largely focussed around my son’s Pixar movie watching preferences).
Being the over thinker I can be (I know, dear reader, I can tell you are shocked!) I immediately started questioning what that meant for how I think about my Mum and my sister, how I’ve been processing their grief. It’s not that I loved them less although the shape of that love is very different.
Now I realise this seems very obvious but perhaps it’s because Dad never met Jack, never saw me as a father and, well, I just wish the two of them had been able to meet. If Jack thinks his Daddy is a silly billy then I think meeting his Grandfather may have blown his mind!
I have no illusion that if Dad were here he would’ve suddenly started offering me advice and wisdom, that wasn’t his way, but I at least think he would’ve been happy to see all the love and care he gave me is being passed on twofold (if not three).
Passing anniversaries are strange things. Reflecting on all the missed experiences with those who have departed is natural and, for me at least, often brings up additional thoughts on everyone else who has left us far too soon.
So it’s not that my Mum and especially my sister don’t loom large in my mind everyday, but the recency of their passing makes it different. My grief for them is still sharp and jaggy, and can be difficult to hold at times. Thoughts of them puncture me rather than slide into my mind with a softness.
I got thinking about how we would’ve visited Mum & Dad yesterday with cake, a selection of sweet treats and a book voucher for Dad, a day to celebrate his birthday whilst Jack ran around in his usual manner, and I just know I’d’ve been watching Dad watching my son. Sensing the pride he would’ve had in me even if he would’ve struggled to express it.
Christmas is the next big anniversary day, the second without Mum, the first without Jennie, and no doubt similar feelings will catch up with me at some point. But I know the passing of time will soften these things, will mould them into something else, something more celebratory and kind, something to hold on to rather than fear.
I miss my Dad.
Between
I am not currently employed. I will be again soon, and I’m excited to start a fresh at a new place but, for now, I am a man of leisure.
It does not suite me. I feel somewhat conflicted most days of how to spend my time and I entirely blame my parents for this.
My Dad was a do-er, a project guy, always something to do be they household chores, or home and garden improvements, there was always something to do. Increasingly, as their home settled into the shape they wanted it, my Dad was busy on the computer writing database programs for the school he worked in (he was a guidance teacher and wanted a better way to track things than on paper), or rehearsing for a choir or Burns performance, as well as all the duties of being a kind and caring Father.
My Mum was a do-er as well, but for a large part of my childhood, my memories of her are static; knitting (paid work for a local designer), or sewing. Her health fluctuated for many years as they tried to have a second child, so my formative memories of her are what gave me my love of old movies, of Formula One, of reading and sunbathing. My Mum did a lot more than that of course, but skimming the surface of my memories and my Dad never sat still, my Mum never moved.
Neither of those statements are true, of course, but when I look at my own actions and inactions over the past couple of weeks those patterns seem to emerge. I feel that I should be busy as I’m not working, so I’ll wash and hang clothes, I’ll clean, I’ll do some home or garden improvement projects. Or I’ll sit and watch a movie, or fire up my PlayStation, or I’ll just write.
I am even managing to carve some time for me, moving more when I can (I am becoming a wild swimmer!) and let’s be honest I am indulging myself whenever I sit and watch a movie. I do so love getting engrossed in a good movie.
My son is at nursery three days a week, Becca works two days a week so I have those two days entirely free (I could take the third day as well but it’s nice to have time with my wife that isn’t being interrupted by our son (who I love dearly!) asking us to watch the start of Lightning McQueen’s race for the 391st time!!!).
It’s odd though, not having work as a focus. It’s not a holiday per se, but in theory there is no pressure on me to do much of anything. Becca has said as much too, and yet… and yet.
If anything my main focus has been to not put pressure on myself to Get Things Done. I am chipping away at tidying up the garage so we can use it as a home gym. I’ve done some work in the garden. I’ve done a few things around the house. I’ve sat and read. I’ve swam, I’ve walked, I’ve cycled. For there will always be something that needs done, another task to add to the list.
However I do want to get the gym finished before I start work in a couple of weeks, and maybe get the kitchen cupboards painted at last (must order the new handles!), and, and, and, so many other things I could do but if I don’t get to them, that’s ok. I finally feel able to find a balance within my own inherited traits so, while it can still be a challenge to be kind to myself, I am finding that I am able to pause now and then to remind myself that it’s ok to not be busy, just as it’s ok to BE busy – something which brings it’s own rewards.
Now, if someone could remind me of all of this in a couple of weeks time when I’m starting the new job and stressing that ALL OF A SUDDEN I have no free time to do anything, that’d be great.