Ulrika Jonsson has marked the anniversary of her father’s death with a poignant and heartbreaking tribute.
The 56-year-old presenter was 28-years-old when her father, named Bo, passed away suddenly at the of 53. On New Year’s Day, the anniversary of her father’s death arrived and she took to social media to pay tribute to him - sharing a touching statement about his life and her memories of him.
Taking to Instagram on Sunday, Ulrika shared a string of photos of her father - including a snap of him playing with her when she was a baby. She penned a moving tribute to him, writing: “28yrs today since you left us, pappa.
“The thing is when someone dies, you have a finite number of pics and memories. It’s no drama today. No huge day of mourning but this day will forever be etched in my heart by that phone call I got which changed everything. It changed my thoughts on mortality; it changed the prospect of more memories with you and I learnt that grief is not a linear process.”
She continued: “I miss the carnage you’d have created had you stayed longer. I miss how you would have driven me mad but would have made me laugh in one fell swoop. I think of you often - especially when I look down at the bow legs you kindly let me inherit. I miss your madness and I think you’d have missed my cooking. And my idiot dogs.”
Harry faced a lot of trauma - the Royal Family is as dysfunctional as any otherThe star added: “You didn’t have a pot to p*** in, really, but I’ve never known anyone to squeeze more out of life’s moments. And your ability to lose children in supermarkets. And forget to pick them up. And always be late. I miss you, you lump of lard.”
Ulrika has discussed the impact the death of her father made on her in the past. She told Best magazine in October 2020: “I find myself at 53 and feel that I cannot possibly imagine feeling any older than 25. My face and body is definitely a different matter. But turning 53 in August was significant for me. It was the age my dad was when he passed away very suddenly and unexpectedly of a brain haemorrhage.
“It was New Year’s Eve 1995. The suspicion is that he actually died - collapsed without warning, on his way from the living room to the kitchen to get himself another G&T - on 29 December, but as he lived on his own in his flat in Sweden, no one is quite sure.
“I was very close to him but we didn’t speak every day. And the coroner would only give the day his body was found as his date of death. It was without doubt the biggest shock of my life. My sister’s call that morning; my primal screams down the phone; my inability to stand or sit; the incomprehension and then the downing of much single-malt whiskey.”
She added: “I can’t deny that some kind of hedonistic rebellion kicked off inside me soon after. I understood how short life could be - how, not that every moment should be a party, but chances should be taken and recklessness and abandon should be embraced… now I find myself living beyond my father’s short life and can’t avoid the feeling that every day really is a bonus.”