The patriarch

James and I attended the wedding of my brother’s daughter in Melbourne. Not a parent myself, I am proud of my brother and my sister-in-law and what they have done as parents. But my hero for the evening was my Dad, John. Just six weeks after Mum’s death, he came along, blessed his granddaughter and her man, danced with the mother of the bride and altogether played the charming patriarch—even as I knew he was thinking of his own wedding day,