This is a no brainer. Unlike favourite book, film, TV series, where I had to give the subject matter some serious consideration. At the risk of letting down the widow community, and not saying Andrew, the person I miss the most is unequivocally my Dad.

After My Mum died, Dad leaned into me for emotional support, and for advice in so many areas. He had helped me financially for all my adult life and from childhood he’d always been the man who could fix things. Often to Andrew’s annoyance as he himself wasn’t so practical like that. His annoyance, to be honest was always equalled by mine, when he’d attempt some task, way beyond his capabilities, full of bravado, only to fail miserably and I’d end up asking Dad anyway.

But in the years after Mum’s death, I had the opportunity to really get to know my Dad. We would spend time together socially, going for coffee or lunches. He’d pop round to mine every Tuesday, after he’d finished his shopping and we’d put the world to rights for a couple of hours. We took wonderful trips to Butlin’s together. I used to attend all his hospital appointments with him. We spent many hours at meetings with the renal team at the dialysis centre. He was due to soon start dialysis at the time he died.

I’d always loved my Dad, but my mother had done her best over the years to keep my attentions on her one way or another. She wanted me to believe as a child that Dad didn’t care about her and she deserved pity. It wasn’t really until I was hospitalised in my twenties for my mental health that I saw how very much my Dad cared for me. He visited me every other day, and would take me shopping for goodies, or to the pub for an hour, just to get me away from the awful psych wards. All the while my husband didn’t visit because he claimed he couldn’t afford the petrol. And My Mum? Banned from visiting me because she caused me too much distress.

After we’d both lost our respective spouses, my Dad became my absolute rock. It almost felt like there wasn’t anything he couldn’t make better. And I cherished his company. And that makes for an expansive gap in my life. I miss my Dad.