Goodbye to Shetland Dad

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellow,

This is from Caro. She puts it better than me. 

Morning babe. We are all still here, Dad still with us. The breathing is changing so we think it might be today sometime. 

I just woke up 5ish. We went to sleep about 11, the nurses woke us at 2 and then 5 to check him and give him more meds and roll him. So it's been broken but solid sleep. 

They put mattresses down for us (I feel I need a soak in the hot tub after this, to sort my back out). I feel like a 90 year old. Fiona and I were lying down giggling and then just passed out through tiredness. 

"Are you still awake?"

"Yes"...

We can hear down the hallway a little old Scottish lady demanding her breakfast now the nurses are doing the 5am med rounds, "I want my breakfast. 2 slices of toast! Noooooo!", 

Another is singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and another just cries "halp!" all the time (she doesn't need help, it's just the only word she knows). 

Poor little old things, all so tiny and childlike. Had to pee earlier and was walking down the corridor to stretch my legs and this little old man popped out of his room, "g'day mate" with a beaming smile. I wonder who he thought I was? 

Death does not wear a pink sweatshirt and leggings. 

But it's fairly quiet otherwise. The nurses here have been really lovely, letting us just be and checking on us occasionally. We have free use of their kitchen so now having hot drinks and sitting with Dad. We have 2 lazyboy chairs which feels more comfy than the beds.

This has to be one of the weirdest nights I've had, sleeping in a resthome. It reminds of the girl guide camps we used to go on when we were young, these old institutional buildings with industrial kitchens and hallways, tired old chairs etc. And we're creeping about in these old corridors. 

It's still dark as sunrise isn't until after 7am... Fiona says this is usually the time when the oldies pop off, in this half night half morning time. 

Anyway, off to pee again and play some Skipbo while Fi is reading her book. 

So we're still here, still doing ok, not sad, just sitting patiently waiting. 

Ronnie passed away at around 11am, just a few hours after Caro wrote this. I'm sure he knew she was there.

S.