My dad was my whole world. He still is one of my favourite humans.
I lost him when I was ten days pregnant with my first child. He knew I was pregnant. What he never knew was that the day after his funeral, I found out I was having twins.
Grief and joy arrived together, and they didn’t take turns. The very best chapter of my life and the very worst collided, and I had to learn to carry both at once. I’ve always been a positive person, so I did what I know how to do: I looked for the good in it.
Dad believed that who we are, our sense of worth, our values, our quiet centre, is mostly laid down by around the age of three, and that it stays with us for life. So I stepped away from my career to help build that foundation for my children. With twins, I felt that weight double. There is no practice round.
Then came the part nobody warns you about. I became a parent and I had questions. So many questions. And the main person I wanted to ask was gone.
I wanted the photos of me at their age, of course. But mostly, I wanted his side of the story. How did he feel? What was happening in his world as our family grew? I knew he was proud of me. But he was also funny, whimsical and clever. I wanted to hear those thoughts, the small, ordinary, brilliant thoughts that live in a person’s head and vanish with them.
Even one page, I would have treasured.
There is no page. So I’m writing one for my children.
The little book by my son’s bed
When my son was seven, his teacher randomly chose a “Star of the Week.” For a week, that child received the small honours: leading the library line, collecting lunches from the canteen and handing out books. At the end of the week, every classmate wrote them a note, and those notes were gathered into a simple book.
Every page was in a different hand. His spiky hair. His sense of humour. How clever he is at maths. What a good friend he is. How kind.
Five years later, it’s still by his bed. It is one of the most treasured things he owns.
It isn’t a fancy book. It’s proof that he was seen, and that what they saw was loved.
Children don’t need much. They just need to know.
Why I made Gratitude Tree
I’ve built a way to capture these things for my children. Gratitude Tree is my living archive for them. It’s not just a record of what they did, but how proud of them I am - all the quirky, funny, fleeting things I feel about them as we travel this road together.
The moments that feel richest while we’re living them are exactly the ones that get swallowed by the busyness of life. Then they’re gone forever.
I love my children more than anything can express. This is my gift to them.
I’d love for you to be able to give your children the same.