Sympathy

It was a week ago tonight that I last saw my dear Dad alive.  I sat next to him for quite a long while and held his hand in mine.  He squeezed it with his thumb.  I gave him a hug and a kiss and told him that I loved him lots before I left him and Mum for what was to be their last night on this Earth together, and returned briefly to my home in Buckinghamshire.  "Love you too", he said.  Little more than twenty-four hours later I was looking at his lifeless face in Colchester Hospital, half an hour after he had passed away.

I'm writing this journal entry sitting on the couch in the same place where he sat when we said our last goodbyes.  I'm so glad that he made it home, even though it was only to be for nine days.  And I'm glad too that Mum was very close by his side with her arm around him when he was suddenly snatched away from us.

We have been receiving a steady trickle of sympathy cards over the last two or three days, as we slowly begin to come to terms with our loss.  Today, we offloaded most of the remaining items which where reminders of Dad's struggles.  Just a couple of disability aids left in the garage for the social services people to collect.  I have made a start on gathering all the paperwork I will need to get Mum sorted out with running their home.  It felt wrong to be going through all the things in Dad's desk drawers.  I imagined he'd come in and catch me nosing around at any moment.  It's going to take a long time to get over losing him.


The flowers in my blipfoto were delivered this morning.  They are for Mum, our family and me, sent with love from my wonderful team-mates at the BBC, who worked extra hard covering me for two months so that Mum and I could spend every day of Dad's illness with him in both hospitals.