My Dad passed away on the 22nd May after we found out he had weeks left with us. He was taken into the hospice and 11 days later peacefully passed away from liver failier from the bowel cancer. He never knew how long he had left, but I think he thought it was months rather than weeks and looking back I'm glad thats the way he felt, as he wasn't scared he just fell asleep on the Friday and passed away on the Saturday evening. The last thing he said to me was "nan night love" on the Friday as they gave him more pain killers, we didnt speak again after that.
We were all with him as he passed, i was terrified as the nurses said "this is it", I didnt have a clue what to expect. I kept leaving the room hoping when i came back in he'd have gone. But as his breathing slowed, it became a pant, and then stopped. Nothing scary, just stopped.
We sat with him, I held his hand and then we left.
The funeral came and went and now I'm back at work after 5 weeks off. I feel so strange, like it never happened and he's away on one of his business trips and will come wandering through the door with luggage and presents. But he won't. I'll visit him at the cremitoriam from now on, when his plaque is finished and we've spread his ashes... On Fathers Day i didnt know what to do, so i bought him all his favorite sweets and took them down to the hospice to the nurses. Then my partner and i sat in the hospice garden, I starred at what was his room - 10, thinking he could just be asleep inside, i could pop in to grab a toffee and then go back outside, but he wasnt.
I sit here writing this like it's another person not me. But it is me. I've always said "worse things happen at sea" meaning no matter how down you are, there is always someone worse off, but now I'm the one worse off and it's very hard to admitt that.
