My dad isn’t the man I grew up with, he’s had chronic MS for 24 years and is a shell of the dad I grew up with, he can’t do anything for himself now and relies on my mum & carers for everything.
He got me into playing rugby, he was a pretty useful hooker in his day. I grew up playing mini rugby until I was about 12/13 then I rebelled and didn’t pick up a ball again until I was 21, when my dad was diagnosed. I wanted to do something to make him proud of me, I realised I’d missed rugby, I loved playing, met lots of great folk and was alright at it as well. Although he’s never said it to me I’m certain he was proud as punch the day I ran out onto the pitch for the first 15…
I miss the dad he was.