When i was 7, we still lived in Carrickfergus, Northern Ireland. There was this old cemetary that every kid in the neighbourhood was afraid of. Being terribly rebellious i spent much time playing hide and seek there with my brothers. I remember coming across an old aging gravestone with an angel standing next to it. I thought to myself 'i want two angels to guard me when i die'. And all of a sudden the fog came down covering my sight and for a moment i thought i had lost my brothers. It was the scariest moment of my life. Suddenly i felt a cold hand resting on my left shoulder. I turned around... To my surprise... There was my father, smiling at me vaguely. He found me.
'No boy your age should be wandering alone in a cemetary' he said.
I took his hand and kissed it gently, held him so tight. He bent down to kiss me back. Then we walked among the gravestones in silence, with the fog swirling round us like ghosts. I was holding his hand tight all the way back home. I was thinking, so was he. But i knew we knew what the other was thinking.

My father...