Some of my reflections on grief and Dad…
I’ve received a number of these opt out of Father’s Day emails over the last couple of weeks, and it’s got me reflecting on grief and my own experience of grieving Dad.
Yesterday, out of nowhere, a thought caught me off guard. “I can’t believe that Dad’s no longer here.”
I was looking at some pictures I have of him by my desk. One of him laughing his head off (below) and the other of him sticking his tongue out at me – taken last year on Father’s Day (pictured above). I look at these photos every day. They make me smile and mostly wonderful memories come flooding back of the man he was. And on other days – like yesterday – I’m taken aback with sadness and become very reflective.
This is the year of firsts – we had his first birthday since he died back in April, it’s Father’s Day approaching next weekend, and then it will be the anniversary of his death in November… each one a chance to remember him, but you never quite know how it’s going to hit you.
Mostly, I feel I’m now at a stage where I can celebrate his life more than get bogged down in the sadness of it all, but then out of nowhere, there are those poignant moments when it takes me by surprise. When I do feel overwhelmed by sadness.
Grief is such a personal experience. There’s no right or wrong way – we have to navigate it as best we can in each moment.
On a good day, I think of grief as the price we pay for love – it can be a helpful reminder that something that feels so sad and painful, also demonstrates just how much love I have for him.
On a not-so-good day, I think of the hole that he’s left behind. The emptiness. Which is the perfect description for the emotion I sometimes feel.
Grief is complex, it’s up and down, it never goes away. My experience is that with time you learn to live with it… you learn to navigate the hole so you don’t fall in as much, and more and more, you remember the good times and the memories, and less and less, you think about the loss.
In memory of Dad and Father’s Day coming up, I thought I’d share here the tribute I wrote about him for his funeral – to honour him and bring his memory back to life. I hope you enjoy reading about him.
So, let me introduce you to my Dad:
David Francis Mayo
19 April 1943 – 5 November 2025
Spaghetti, Aglio, Olio and Peperoncino
Dad’s favourite Italian dish and the perfect metaphor for his recipe for life: one that was full of heart, soul and character.
We all know how much Dad loved food – something Tom, Colin and I have definitely inherited!
Food was his love language. No wonder he fell in love with Mum, a superb cook and a foodie too.
Together, Mum and Dad shared the beautiful ritual of many meals – at home, at favourite restaurants and cafes, with family and with friends.
It’s hard to say what his favourite cuisine really was – as he was so often heard saying, “That was the best [ INSERT HERE ] I’ve ever had!” But I think Italian came out on top.
And after a stint working in Southern Italy, Dad came home proudly showing off his new culinary skills through the simple, delicious dish of Spaghetti, Aglio, Olio and Peperoncino.
So, what does this humble recipe of six ingredients tell us about Dad?
The spaghetti represents his creativity and problem solving skills – his foundation for everything in work, life and hobbies. With his engineering mind, he could solve any puzzle, fix anything, and complete the most cryptic of crosswords. He loved a creative challenge. From the driftwood he’d turn into a Ludibundus game of Hopping Hoolets, to renovating the old red telephone box in our garden in Pencaitland, to creating an anchor out of stones in Bellgrove’s driveway over the loch… Dad found so much joy in creating and upcycling.
The aglio – garlic represents his steadfast loyalty, a winning flavour in any dish. Dad was strong, wise and dependable. To Mum and all the family, to their friends, his colleagues and the communities in which he lived and worked.
The olio – extra virgin olive oil represents his extraordinary – fun side. Poured liberally, just like his laughter – both good for the heart and soul. Dad was forever joking, telling stories, playing pranks, laughing and smiling – with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.
The peperoncino – chilli represents his adventurous spirit and fittingly, Chile (the country) is where Mum and Dad honeymooned. From his early days travelling far and wide with the Royal Navy to more recent adventures – from Madagascar to Marrakesh, where we rode camels and took a balloon ride just last Christmas – Dad never stopped adventuring. The year before when he turned 80, Mum and Dad not only went to the Galápagos Islands, they also hiked up a massive mountain to celebrate Colin’s 50th!
And now for the seasoning of sea salt… no meal is complete without it. This represents his hard work, much of which was done at sea! From submariner to underwater consultant, to his work with the Cinema here overlooking the loch in Campbeltown. Dad was disciplined, determined, and deeply committed. His time at Dartmouth Naval College earned him the Queen’s Telescope (not to mention the Captain’s daughter!) and although it was Mum who went on to receive the British Empire Medal for her work with The Picture House (The Wee Pictures), Dad was there every step of the way, right beside her. His latest project – writing a book about Campbeltown during the war – will be finished posthumously in his honour.
And finally, the grated Parmigiano on top. Parmesan honours every Italian dish. This final ingredient represents his integrity in life – the finishing touch – bringing all the flavours and characteristics together. Dad lived (and loved) life fully, with honesty, humility, and honour.
So, there you have it – Spaghetti, Aglio, Olio and Peperoncino – Dad’s favourite Italian dish and his recipe for life.
Best served with family and friends, lots of laughter and a big glass of red.
So, someday soon, make yourself a bowl and raise a glass to Dad. To David.
I’ll be making this dish this Father’s Day. I hope you’ll join me.
Not The Mayo Clinic 