When I was eight, my father died. Suddenly and catastrophically. Although we were pretty sure we didn’t even know for days if he was in a hospital bed, unidentified or a mortuary. Sadly it was the latter. Oh gosh, even thinking about those days makes the end of my nose hurt and my eyes prick. Something like that leaves its mark on your heart and changes so much about you. Your world is no longer certain, parents die and you only have one left.
One thing that happened was that we knew who we would live with were the worst to happen. That was a very secure thought for me. I would imagine which room I would have in their house and how happy I would be to spend more time with them. I survived my childhood without losing another parent and gradually the raw pain of my loss faded to a background aching. When I was expecting Milla my thoughts turned to the possibility that Mr Kat and I could die – I know, cheery. We spent a long time discussing who we would ask to be guardians of our children. How do you chose the people who will replace you as the central figures in a child’s life? Who would raise them with similar values? Who would welcome them into their hearts no matter what? Ultimately, who did we trust most in the world?
We chose my best friend and her partner. A couple who’s kindness and open hearts give me the same security I felt as a child. We have dragged our heels about making a will but finally it is being written. I cannot tell you how I feel about their generosity but I know where I feel it. With every fibre of my being.