I asked my dad to write my wedding speech after he was given 6 months to live. I'm holding on to it for my special day.

Courtesy of the author

I remember the moment my dad told me he had six months to live like it was yesterday. I was sprawled out on the cushiony sofa bed he'd furnished in the corner of his log cabin at the bottom of the garden. On a warm, quiet Sunday morning in mid-March, I was taking respite to the sound of olive-green goldcrests tweeting away in the nearby tree.