Tunnels are strange things. Some are physical, of course: an act of collective willpower against geographical circumstance. Others are more illusory: born of speed and light and persistence of vision, or circumstance, or emotional or mental state.

They’re no less real though.

It’s the circumstantial/emotional/mental ones that concern me right now. The ones where life comes at you fast, and doesn’t give you space or time to look anywhere but ahead, lest you be cut down by the express freight train of “character building” experience that’s thundering closer.

A couple of weeks back, my boss told me he couldn’t afford to keep paying me, so I could either accept a (very large) pay cut, or accept that I was going to be moving on. I’m paraphrasing there somewhat, it was a little less brutal than that, but it was still a kick in the guts.

I chose to move on.

Yesterday I had a couple of job interviews, which may have gone okay… I think… but it’s been a while since I last had an interview, so I’m second guessing my performance! It’s not done until the signature is dry on the contract, so we’ll see.

Then, to add some emotional whiplash, yesterday afternoon my dad passed away. Not unexpectedly – he was an old man, in declining health – but you can never really be ready. Roman Roy (from the TV series Succession) claimed to be “pre-grieved”, but I don’t think that’s humanly possible. Grief comes for you on its own timetable. I’m okay, for the most part, but I suspect I shall have a few glum minutes and tear-stained moments over the coming days.

Life carries on, of course. I have to prepare my handover at my current job, keep seeking a new job, prepare a eulogy, manage day-to-day family life, rest, breathe, take time for myself, be available for my kids.

It could be overwhelming – 15-20 years ago, it probably would have been. Then again, back then I was a new father myself, slightly scared by the massive responsibility of being a parent, the challenge of a new career, the mountain of a house move.

If the most recent years of my life have shown me anything, it’s that I’ve inherited my dad’s grit, his broad shoulders (physical, mental and emotional) and his tendency to play his cards very close to his chest. I’ve also inherited his tendency to be a workaholic.

I should probably do something to make sure that last one doesn’t become a problem… Especially in conjunction with my inclination to also play my cards close; I’d prefer to skip the heart bypass surgery.

Thanks for everything Dad, it wasn’t perfect (not even close) but you showed up when it mattered most, kept providing food and shelter, and gave me an empowering tenet to live by: “You’re able and smart, with the same hands and brain any skilled person out there has; if they can do it, you can.” That’s not nothing, not at all. I hope I’ve learnt from your mistakes, and built on your successes.

Rest well.