Tuesday 10 November 2015

Goodbye Daddy

1 month ago today I lost my darling Dad to cancer. I know that I am not the only one this has happened to, and yet it seems that my grief is different to everyone else's. After all, he was MY dad. He can't possibly really be gone, can he? It doesn't feel real.

Dad was a tall, strong, proud gentle giant - a larger than life character who I saw at least once a week for my entire life and spoke to every other day. My sisters and I were his pride and joy and we are distraught at losing him. The cancer that he suffered ravaged his body, took away his dignity, left him exhausted and depressed and we knew that he was ready to go.
He first became ill only 18 months ago, which was prompted me to suddenly publish my book, even though I knew it wasn't ready - we half expected to lose him very quickly - the doctor had told him straight away to "prepare for the end of your life". And so I published, warts and all, just so that he could see me in print. It was, he said, one of his proudest moments. He will never see the re-edited version, and right at this moment completing this task is not my priority. I will do it some time, in his memory, but it won't make any difference to him now. Nor will he see my lovingly crafted sequel, which I am taking an age and a half to prepare before I send it off. I would have loved him to be here to see the trilogy completed. But I would gladly chuck the lot in the bin if it meant I could have him back.

My sisters cared for my dad in  his final months (I did what I could between a broken leg and work commitments) and we all spent his final days with him at the hospice. We spent his last night with us playing music and singing his favourite Elvis songs to him. We sat up all night talking and laughing together and although he couldn't speak or move by this time, he kept squeezing our hands to let us know he was still with us. He was in pain and distressed and we asked that he be sedated to ease his suffering, even though this meant that he wasn't awake to be with us. Gradually as the hours passed, he slipped away. We were with him when he died.
The hospice staff were amazing and we owe a debt of gratitude that we can never repay. We are organising a grand charity event in Dad's name in the Spring, with the proceeds going to the hospice, but it will never be enough. Dad wanted to go into the hospice - he had been a day patient, and luckily we came up with this idea before he died and were able to share our plans with him. He gave a proud thumbs up.

At the moment, I can barely bring myself to concentrate on anything for very long. They same that time is a great healer, and I expect that I will learn to live without Dad in my life. But when I look at his photo and remember that he isn't there, it makes me jump every time.

So I know that this is not a happy post, but I wanted to pay tribute to a wonderful man - Dad, granddad, great granddad, partner and friend.
Goodbye Daddy.
I love you.