Month: June 2021

To Mr C on Fathers’ Day

Well Mr C. This one has come around quick. How can we possibly be on our second Fathers’ Day without you already? She only had 10 with you alive, yet somehow, she’s now done two without you. It’s wrong. It’s all so very wrong.

Because without question, being a father was something you always wanted. Only being one for 10 years isn’t right. Your original life plan was to be married with a child by the age of 26. Falling in love with someone nearly seven years younger than you was always going to make that a challenge. But I knew. From the very early days of us dating, I knew what a doting and wonderful father you would be.

Sadly, 26 was the age you were when you were diagnosed with testicular cancer. The chemotherapy and the surgery meant that having a family was no longer a certainty. We had no idea whether it would happen for us. As it was, it took nearly 18 months and a number of medical tests before I fell pregnant with her. But we both loved her from that very first scan when we saw her wriggling around. You were made up. You were about to get everything you had ever wanted.

From the moment she was born, it was evident how strong a bond you were going to have. How much you adored her. And as she got older, that bond only strengthened. It was a joy to watch. To see you finally come into your own as a father. Firm but fair. And while she was never meant to be an only child, I know that we made the right decision for us as family not to have any more. After losing our second baby, we just became even more grateful for all we had. We hadn’t known if it would be possible at all, we just decided to count our blessings. In fact, I like to think that you’re now looking after our angel baby while I stay here looking after our first baby.

Yet it makes me so angry and sad that you’re not here to see that beloved first baby grow up. At all you’re going to miss out on. That you’ve not seen just how unbelievably amazing she has been since you were rushed to ITU (although in the pragmatic style of her daddy, she’d tell me that if you had been here, she wouldn’t have needed to be this amazing). She’s changed and grown up so much, I wish you were still here to see it. She’s now getting excited about the next phase in her life and starting secondary school in September, but I’m so nervous about it. You should be here for this; I don’t really know how I’m going to do it without you. I just know I’ll be trying to do everything I can do hold it together because a) our baby is growing up and b) you’re not here to share it with us.

I’m also so angry and sad at all she has lost. At all she’s continuing to lose. Her daddy, her protector, her partner in crime, her innocence, her security, her family. We’ve brought her up to know that life isn’t always cupcakes and rainbows, but I wish she hadn’t had to have it confirmed in such a heart-breaking way. At the risk of saying something ridiculously childlike, it’s just not fair. Because it isn’t. None of this is. The memories of you and her together throughout the years keep cropping up on Facebook memories, you really were as thick as thieves. And this month is the worst because of all the Fathers’ Day ones. They make me smile and cry at the same time. There was just so much love between you both. I so wish I could have bottled it for her.

I think back to the first Fathers’ Day without you last year. It was me who struggled and cried more than she did. I even queried whether this was “normal” with others on the Widowed and Young Facebook page. Why was I so upset? Why wasn’t she? But this year is different, I can see that. Even the build-up has been so much harder for her. Last year the two of us were cocooned in our own little world. This year she’s seeing more people, she’s seeing more children with their dads, she’s been in shops where Fathers’ Day is advertised everywhere. “Why do they do that?” she asked me “Why is it everywhere? I don’t have a dad, I don’t want to see it.” It breaks my heart to hear her say that because she does have a dad. Granted, you may not physically be here, but she does have one. And I promise you Mr C, with everything I have, that I will never, ever allow her to forget you. To forget how loved by her daddy she was.

But it’s not just her feeling the pain of you not being here, I’m missing co-parenting and your role as a father too. She went on a school trip this week, you know how much I hate her doing these. How paranoid I am and how sick I feel whenever she goes on a coach. You were the one always there to placate me when I’d leave her and cry. This week I went back to the car by myself. All I wanted was a hug and for you to tell me everything was going to be ok. The fabulous Widowed and Young contingent were there for me though, I wasn’t totally alone. And I ran away to the office to distract myself, even managing to get lunch bought for me to save me cooking when I got home (Wednesday’s win!)

Yet despite my feelings and how much I’m hurting and missing you, she continues to be my priority. I will always put her first. I will always make sacrifices for her. I need to help her to learn to live without you. To continue to live her life without her daddy. To help her not feel guilt, because despite her young age, she does. She feels guilty that for several of the Fathers’ Days you had, that she was away from you either at dance shows or rehearsals for them. I’ve tried explaining that seeing her do something she loved was just as rewarding for you as being with her, but she’s a child. She can’t comprehend why. She doesn’t have the emotional maturity to understand it. She doesn’t understand how that can be possible. She sees things very black and white. But it’s true. You adored seeing her on stage taking after you with performing. You were so unbelievably proud of her; I can only hope that she knows that, and I can only promise you that I will continue to tell her.

But it’s not just performing. I simply see so much of you in her. I don’t know if it’s always been there and I never noticed it before because you were here, but it’s there now. I’ve said before that I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve said “she’s her father’s daughter” but she really is. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly, she stands up for herself, she rolls her eyes, she loves a board game, she’s always singing, she’s crazy at times. But these are all things she’s watched and learnt from you. Without a shadow of a doubt, you have had such an influence on her. It’s testament to your role as her father. I just hope you knew what an amazing job you were doing for all those years.

And I strongly suspect you did. You were the one who came up with the idea to take her to a special place every year on her birthday and document her growing up with a photo. You were the one who created a special email account for her and emailed her throughout the years, I’ve read some of them now but I can’t read them all. They make me cry. They make me miss you even more. Because they’re not me telling her how much you loved her, they’re you telling her. It’s such an unbelievable legacy to have left her, and, when the time is right, I will absolutely share them with her. She will always know that love directly from you. I doubt I ever said it when you were alive, but thank you for doing both of these things.

They will be invaluable because as the months have gone on, there are little things she’s forgetting about you. There are little things that just aren’t as prominent for her any more even after only 14 months. I’m doing all I can to keep you alive in her memory but one of my biggest fears is that these memories will continue to dissipate over time. We talk about you all the time, I encourage her to write down memories so she doesn’t forget and can look back in years to come, I make sure when we’re with family and friends that they talk about you too. You will be part of all our lives forever. I’ll make sure of that. It’s not without its challenges, but I won’t give up on it. I won’t allow myself to give up on it.

Yet I know over time, the challenges will probably get harder. Relationships and friendships will change. The memories will fade more. She’s going to grow up, be less reliant on me and be around me less as she lives her life. She’s going to go on and do great things (of that I’m sure) and right now I’m scared as to where will that leave me. We won’t be able to watch her to do this together and as cute as he is, the dog really doesn’t provide the same level of conversation and have the same level of pride that you did! But in all seriousness, the future does scare me more than ever now. What it will bring for me. Who I’ll become when I’m not needed in the same way as a mother and don’t have you here with me. The one thing I am sure of though is that I will always, always be immensely proud of our little girl. I am sure that as you watch over her, you will be immensely proud of her too. Because after all, no matter how old she is, she will always honour you and be daddy’s little girl. Just you watch.

When I grow up, I’m going to marry Jason Donovan…

I’ll admit from the outset that this blog is slightly different to all my other posts so far. But when I said I was going to start writing a blog about my rollercoaster life, a friend of mine said that she hoped I’d use it to tell more of my life story. Not just the post COVID story. To tell people more about Emma. And to answer the question which I think more than one person has wondered. Just what is behind the infatuation with Jason Donovan?? So, as it’s his birthday today, it felt like a nice time to tell this story…

I think I was seven years old when I made the momentous life decision that when I grew up, I was going to marry Jason Donovan. Seven years old, totally bought into the Scott and Charlene love story in Neighbours so that when the transition to music happened, I was there ready and waiting with my pocket money! Now I work in marketing, I can see that I would have been a marketer’s dream. And it’s also since becoming a parent that I can see how I must have driven my parents insane with this adoration. The Ten Good Reasons album was the album of choice for any day trip, and I still know which song would be playing as we arrived at Dymchurch Beach. I knew this meant that on the way home we’d have to turn the cassette over! (Yes, I am that old that I remember cassettes). My bedroom wall was covered in posters. I’d buy all the records. I’d buy all the magazines. I had the Straight From The Heart board game (still own this). Everything was helping me prepare for growing up and marrying him. I don’t think anyone actually had the heart to break it to me that this wouldn’t happen.

So, when he was cast in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, it was the height of excitement for me. Except my mum told me that she couldn’t afford the tickets. I was heartbroken. Little did I know that a few months later; on what I thought was just a day trip to London; her and my godmother would present me with tickets. I could barely eat all day. The excitement was too much to bear. At the end of the show, I stood outside the stage door for just over three and a half hours. This was the start of my stage door stalking that continues to this day. A girl next to me said that her friend was at the front of the queue and passed my autograph book forward. When it was given back to me, the autograph was in there. The excitement was palpable. It became my most treasured possession. Although now when I look at it and compare it to other autographs I’ve seen him sign, I can’t help but wonder if it was actually her friend who signed it…

And then the fall from grace. Jason Donovan was no longer winning all the awards. He was no longer the big pop star. It was no longer cool to like him. I remember going to Woolworths (again, showing my age), picking up Mission of Love and a group of teenage girls next to me sniggered and laughed that I was buying it. It was the first time I really became conscious of what other people thought and the impact it could have. I think it undoubtedly played a part in me trying to fit in and be like everyone else for so much of my teenage life and my 20s. I didn’t like the feeling of being laughed at for liking something different or that wasn’t perceived as cool. First boyfriends weren’t told about this secret love affair of mine (didn’t want to scare them off). My liking of Jason Donovan became a closely guarded secret so that people wouldn’t think I was weird.

But deep down inside, I was still a fan. And when I was 17, I met him for the first time. He was appearing in The Rocky Horror Show in Canterbury. My friend; who I’d become friends with because she had pictures of him on her folder when we started at secondary school; and I went with my mum. I vividly remember saying before we went that if he was horrible at the stage door, that would it be. It would be over. We waited nervously. But when he came out, he saw that there was a girl in a wheelchair at the stage door waiting. He went straight over. He knelt to her level. He spoke to her. He spoke to each and every one of us. He gave us his time. Over 20 years later, the impact of that evening stays with me. Despite having just performed on stage, Jason gave us his time and showed kindness. To anyone who’s read my previous blogs, you’ll know how important kindness is to me. The love affair was still on.

And then the wilderness years. We all know why. But in 2006, Jason returned to our TV screens in I’m A Celebrity. Mr C and I were in New York for some of the series. I set the video to record (yes, a video tape!) to watch when we got back. Poor Mr C, this was about to be his first real experience of what was to come over the subsequent years of our marriage. Jason was back. I was there at the comeback tour the following year making me join a camping trip with friends a day late. I wasn’t missing this! It was such an enjoyable evening and took me straight back to my seven year old self (although if you happen to see the DVD, there’s some very amusing footage of me looking beyond starstruck when he comes into the audience…)

Over the subsequent years, Jason started doing more TV, more theatre and just generally being more of a presence again. I tried counting up how many times I’d seen him and failed. I’m sure I will work this out one day! I’ve been on the most epic trip to Butlins with friends to see him. So much laughing. So much fun. It was the best weekend EVER, despite me coming home with the nickname “Jasonzilla” because, apparently, I turned into a bit of monster to make sure we were there on time and right at the front of the stage to see him. A claim I vehemently deny to this day. I’ve danced on stage in an Australian hat with my friends and family in the opening song of Act 2 of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. It’s not even a guilty pleasure any more, I’m quite open about all of this now. It’s led to more of my family and friends winding me up about this obsession. There are the jokes about the injunction order. I’ve even got one friend who is convinced that whenever Jason finds out I’m in the building via my over excitable tweets or front row seats, there’s a call to security “code red, code red, she’s here again.”

But why am I still like this over 30 years since my first declaration of love? The memory of how genuine he was the first time I met him has stayed with me. It’s resulted in many more occasions waiting at the stage door. And throughout it all, Jason has been a true gent. Every single time. If he’s too busy to talk or take photos at the stage door, he tells us. He’s honest and upfront. He’s genuine. He makes time for his fans. To the point that when he was the compere at an event my company was sponsoring and I stealthily stalked him, he took a selfie of the two of us for me. Why? Because I was so excited, I simply couldn’t make my thumb work to press the button. At a critical moment to get an amazing picture, I couldn’t make my thumb work. That evening was the first time one of my colleagues had properly met me. She’s gone on to become a fabulous friend, but nearly six years later, I’m still staggered she speaks to me. She spent most of the evening with me being a quivering wreck. I also remember sending the selfie Jason had taken to Mr C. His response was simply “That poor man.” No compliments on what an amazing photo it was, just three words. Harsh, in my opinion. But despite how much Mr C mocked me, he secretly liked how much I’d become more open about the adoration. He liked that I no longer felt the need to hide it.

And over the last few years, with the advent of social media, I’ve even had the odd tweet or two from Jason himself. I can’t begin to explain how excited I get when these notifications pop up on my phone!! Social media has also meant I’ve been able to connect with more like-minded Jason fans. I don’t really know what you call a group of Jason fans (I suspect Mr C would have suggested Nutters, Crazy Women or something equally flattering) but I genuinely feel I could meet these women for a drink and it would be like we’ve known each other for years. Equally, social media has led to conversations with the lovely Ange, Jason’s wife. I sometimes wonder how she puts us up with us all fawning over her husband, but she does so with such good grace. And on more than one occasion has made me laugh out loud with her responses! But above all else, the kindness and support shown to me from each and every one of these people over the past 15 months, including the main man himself, has meant so very much. They’ve been there for me every step of the way, even arranging for Jason to send me a tweet the day after I was told the next 24-48 hours were critical for Mr C. There’s been other little nice touches too, none of which would have taken any time or cost anything, but each of them has meant the absolute world. We come back to that word again. Kindness.

So, as I come to the end of this blog, I hope I’ve answered the question I posed at the start. What is behind the infatuation with Jason Donovan? Quite simply, he’s just so lovely! But in all seriousness, I feel like he’s been there for me at every stage of my life. Because listening to his music takes me back to a time when life was simple, and I didn’t have a care in the world. I need that at times. Because he’s helped me realise that it doesn’t matter if you’re not the coolest. It doesn’t matter if you like something that means you don’t quite fit in. That’s ok. The girls in Woolworths wouldn’t bother me now. Because he’s shown that when it comes down to it, all that matters is that you’re kind, genuine and true to yourself. Whoever you are. Whether you’re famous or not. And that is one of the most invaluable lessons you can ever be taught.