At the start of the year, I sadly lost my dad.<\/p>
I always thought he would keep going and be there for years to come, but he passed away peacefully with many of us by his bedside. Even so, it still hurts. He would not see our daughter, his granddaughter, celebrate her third birthday, but he had already helped shape who she is becoming.<\/p>
Initially, I found myself looking back and wondering what could have been different. What more could we have done? What conversations should we have had? After months of grieving and reflection, I realised I would not change anything. I have no regrets, apart from wishing I could have him back, calling us daily for updates and checking in on us and his \"princess\".<\/p>
I often thought about the change curve, though for the first time it had nothing to do with redundancy, workplace transformation, or organisational change. My dad did more for me than most fathers ever could, and in many ways we were very similar. We both spent too much time looking backwards and not enough time appreciating the present.<\/p>
Growing up, we were a working-class family with a rich family history on both sides. My mum and dad worked opposite shifts to pay the mortgage, cover the bills, and provide for me and my siblings. Before children, they were both fashionable and loved the latest trends, but family always came first.<\/p>
Christmas was my dad's favourite time of year. I rarely asked for much, but somehow my parents always found a way to get us the things we dreamed of. It made my dad proud to do that for us.<\/p>
Even now, I can still hear my parents wrapping presents downstairs on Christmas Eve. The staircase in our old cottage had open slats, and my siblings and I would peer through the gaps trying to catch a glimpse of Father Christmas's work in progress. We were usually told off and sent straight back to bed.<\/p>
One Christmas, our daughter's first in our new home, my dad bought me a Bosch drill set. I felt guilty accepting it because he had struggled after being made redundant during the pandemic, and his knees had begun to fail him. One of his first acts after retiring was to buy me that drill set.<\/p>
But that was my dad. He would sacrifice his own comfort to help others.<\/p>
Helping people was one of his defining qualities. From a young age, he taught me what it meant to help others without expecting anything in return. It is one of the greatest lessons he ever gave me.<\/p>
My dad was a plasterer by trade, so from a young age I knew how to mix plaster and cement. As I grew older, I worked alongside him as a labourer, listening to his stories and memories. I changed my first plug at a young age and still remember both my dad and grandad congratulating me afterwards.<\/p>
He taught me practical skills in countless ways. We repaired the flat roof on my parents' house together after poor workmanship by a previous owner caused it to fail. I still remember my mum and I desperately trying to keep a bucket from overflowing as water poured through the ceiling. We also rendered the house and laid pathways together.<\/p>
Those experiences taught me the value of hard work.<\/p>
While I was at college, I worked long hours in retail alongside my studies. Looking back, I am not even sure it would be allowed today. If I could go back and give my younger self one piece of advice, it would be this: focus more on your education and do not try to work full-time hours while studying full-time.<\/p>
Although you should never help others expecting something in return, I always tried to support my parents later in life and we owe it to our parents or those that helped us mould who we are today. My dad would often call to say his bus had not turned up, and I would happily drive him home or take him to work sites instead of letting him walk.<\/p>
Those journeys became valuable time together - talking, listening, questioning, and learning.<\/p>
My dad encouraged all of my interests. Whether it was karate at primary school, guitar, football, or any other hobby, my parents always found a way to support me despite having very little money. They wanted me to have opportunities to learn and grow.<\/p>
Like my dad, I was a fast runner when I was younger. His own father had been a Sergeant Major in the Parachute Regiment and pushed him hard as a child. My dad chose a different approach with me and my siblings. We were encouraged to find our own interests and follow our own paths. There was never any pressure at school or in life.<\/p>
Part of me wonders whether I might have achieved more academically if the importance of education had been emphasised more strongly. But ultimately, we are all responsible for our own choices and our own futures.<\/p>
Losing my dad has made me reflect on what learning really means.<\/p>
When I think about the lessons that have stayed with me throughout my life, very few came from textbooks or formal lessons. Most came from people. They came from conversations, shared experiences, stories, music, mistakes, and simply spending time together.<\/p>
My dad probably never realised how much he was teaching me. Whether we were working on a roof, driving to a job, listening to music, or talking about life, I was learning. Not because he sat me down and taught me, but because I was spending time with someone who cared.<\/p>
Since becoming a parent myself, I have come to realise that children learn in much the same way. They learn through connection, curiosity, observation, and everyday experiences. The moments may seem small at the time, but years later they often become the memories and lessons we carry with us.<\/p>
In many ways, that understanding helped shape Cognitees.<\/p>
The idea behind Cognitees is not simply educational clothing. It is about creating opportunities for conversation, curiosity, and shared experiences between parents, grandparents, carers, and children. The educational designs are intended to spark interaction, encourage questions, and help make learning part of everyday life.<\/p>
Many parents worry they are not doing enough to support their child's development. Life is busy, screens compete for attention, and time often feels limited. Yet some of the most powerful learning opportunities happen during ordinary moments together.<\/p>
If there is one thing my dad taught me, it is that some of the most important lessons in life happen when we are not even aware that learning is taking place.<\/p>
My taste in music is heavily influenced by him too.<\/p>
He loved talking about the concerts he attended when he was younger, seeing artists such as BB King and Tina Turner. We went to many gigs together and shared a love of music across different genres.<\/p>
One Father's Day, I surprised him with tickets to see Bad Company at Wembley Arena. We still talked about that concert because the people behind us spent most of the evening whistling loudly. Despite that, he absolutely loved it. As always, I came away learning more about Bad Company, Free, Paul Rodgers, and the music he loved.<\/p>
Music has a remarkable ability to trigger memories. Sometimes a song can transport you back to a particular place, person, or moment in time.<\/p>
I still remember sitting with one of my dad's records spinning on the turntable, listening through his red-and-white headphones from the 1970s. He would carefully pull out each vinyl LP and tell me the stories behind the music, opening the sleeves as though they were storybooks waiting to be read.<\/p>
Those stories, those songs, and those moments are some of the greatest gifts he ever gave me.<\/p>
Although my dad is no longer here, the lessons he taught me remain. They influence how I live, how I parent, and how I think about learning.<\/p>
Perhaps that is one of the hardest and most beautiful parts of grief. We lose the person, but we keep the memories, the values, the stories, and the lessons they left behind.<\/p>
And if we are lucky, we pass them on to the next generation.<\/p>
James<\/p>","urlTitle":"bereavement","url":"\/blog\/bereavement\/","editListUrl":"\/my-blogs","editUrl":"\/my-blogs\/edit\/bereavement\/","fullUrl":"https:\/\/cognitees.com\/blog\/bereavement\/","featured":false,"published":true,"showOnSitemap":true,"hidden":false,"visibility":null,"createdAt":1779792961,"updatedAt":1780169906,"publishedAt":1780169905,"lastReadAt":null,"division":{"id":403392,"name":"Cognitees"},"tags":[],"metaImage":{"original":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/dca9okrx1ui8ewilftjsalg82fvzijmmzdcwj4qhftpnipma.jpeg","thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/dca9okrx1ui8ewilftjsalg82fvzijmmzdcwj4qhftpnipma.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/dca9okrx1ui8ewilftjsalg82fvzijmmzdcwj4qhftpnipma.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"metaTitle":"Bereavement, Learning, Parenting & Life","metaDescription":"","keyPhraseCampaignId":122962,"series":[],"similarReads":[{"id":50705,"title":"5 Ways to Be an Everyday Educator (Without a Teaching Degree)","url":"\/blog\/5-ways-to-be-an-everyday-educator\/","urlTitle":"5-ways-to-be-an-everyday-educator","division":403392,"description":"You don\u2019t need a teaching degree to educate. Discover 5 powerful ways parents, professionals, and creatives can be everyday educators through conversation, curiosity, and what they wear.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/qpgqoomlzquczssjkzx56zyxjl2nmlz2h7m2se2ejwphriux.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/qpgqoomlzquczssjkzx56zyxjl2nmlz2h7m2se2ejwphriux.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":51966,"title":"From First Friends to First Focus: Why Black & White Matters for Your Baby","url":"\/blog\/national-childbirth-trust\/","urlTitle":"national-childbirth-trust","division":403392,"description":"When you\u2019re preparing for a baby, everyone has something to share. Read about me and the National Childbirth Trust.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/24rloq2w8zuqdmls9vq6agv3zgciml7x6tauhfxfolxfhw0b.png.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/24rloq2w8zuqdmls9vq6agv3zgciml7x6tauhfxfolxfhw0b.png.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":50686,"title":"Why Everyone is an Educator or Student (without realising it)","url":"\/blog\/everyone-is-an-educator\/","urlTitle":"everyone-is-an-educator","division":403392,"description":"Discover why everyone is an educator and a student without realising it. Explore how everyday learning happens beyond classrooms, and how educational clothing can spark curiosity, conversation, and connection.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/1meddsifc3qgvuzdjx8tkhgxnnkxhwrku6bb1gitywlpf1t2.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/1meddsifc3qgvuzdjx8tkhgxnnkxhwrku6bb1gitywlpf1t2.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0}],"labels":[]}