Personal Grief

You don’t need to read this. It’s just me blowing off some steam. Still trying to come to terms with my father’s death.

When my mum was suddenly taken ill, I was working / living in Australia. She passed away before I could even book a flight to get home.

When My father was ill, I resolved to be with him and at his side throughout his ordeal. I flew to the UK and spent the last eight weeks with him. Talking and reminiscing, but mostly I would just be watching him sleep.

The morning he passed away; I was on a bus desperately trying to get to him at the hospice – but as luck would have it he died before I got there.

Strangely I was so angry with him, that he could not hold on until I got to him, so I could at least tell him I loved him and always would. I don’t know what the nurses thought waiting outside his room – but I spent a good few minutes’ raging at his corpse!! Not upset – just bloody mad!

Stupid I know. My younger Brother and his wife had managed to reach the hospital before he passed, so he did not die alone, and I will always be grateful for that – perhaps my greatest fear. But I still felt so let down.

I’m not even sure if that’s the right word – or the right emotion. All I know is that fourteen years later the memories are very raw still.

In truth, I think that all I ever wanted from him was that he’d be proud of me. (Something I think we should all be telling our sons and daughters.) That he was happy with how I’d turned out.

Here’s the thing – being a (typical?) North East man, he didn’t show his feelings very often. He didn’t say a lot. And I can never recall him saying he was proud of who I was or what I did. In my heart I know he did - but he never said it.

So I’m a little sensitive about it and even though I’m fast approaching 68 myself – I don’t think its something I will forget, but I do forgive him.

My biggest regret was that in his later years he became a great friend. We spoke more in his final years than we did in the previous 50 or so. And I think I miss my friend more than my father at times.

Its okay to be sad. Its ok to be angry. I have learned that grief will affect you in many ways. Why did I not feel the same way about my mum passing away? Well, all I can think of is that the last time I saw her alive she was laughing and begging me to stop making her laugh as she was peeing herself.

That is how I remember her and always will. I never got to see her while she was ill, in hospital and disorientated or finally laid in the small and final wooden box. Somehow that makes me happy. For me, she is out there still alive and still laughing.

There are days when a darkness comes over me and I retreat deep into my protective shell. Its there while I'm curled up warm and safe I think back to cold winter nights in front of a roaring fire. Mum knitting yet another scarf or jumper. Dad at the table , cup of tea in hand and holding the Racing Blue paper - studying the horses. And I look at them and know I am loved, know how safe I am and how hard they fought to ensure I stayed that way. And the darkness lifts and I start to breath once more.

Miss You Guys.