LostInTheWoods

It has been a few weeks since I have posted, and there are two main reasons for this. Firstly I had nothing to say, but then, on Saturday 16^th June, my world was shaken up. What I am about to write is possibly cathartic, I am not sure, but please allow me this indulgence.

At 5.30am on that Saturday morning, the phone rang. I don't remember answering the phone, but I found myself talking with my brother. The previous night my father, who was living in a nursing home, was taken to hospital as he had a pain in his left side. This was a concern, but it did not prepare me for what my brother was about to tell me.

My father was dying. During the night he had undergone a procedure to investigate the cause of his pain, and then to try and do something about it. In doing this, his body went into shutdown, and his organs started to fail. I found myself here in Sweden, feeling totally useless, faced with the realisation I would never see my Dad again.

We decide to pack suitcases, and I said to Renee “pack for a funeral”, I was dealing with practicalities in a dream like state. We headed to the airport to see if we could get across the North Sea and back to the UK. It was unlikely Dad would be alive when we got there, but we had to try. Renee drove, I was monitoring the mobile phone. My brother phoned, he asked if we should give consent not to put Dad onto life support if he required it. He was so weak, there really was no point, so I gave my consent. I do not regret this decision.

At the airport, we managed to buy tickets to London via Brussels. We checked in, went through security, and tried to eat something in a café. While we sat there, I thought about who I should call, my brother had already notified the family, so I called one of Dad's life long friends. I got his wife, I told her that Dad had hours to live, she said they would get to the hospital as soon as possible.

Phone rang again, it was my brother, he told me that Dad had passed away half an hour ago. Renee started to cry, and as the news sunk in, so did I. Tough. Dad had most of his family around him, and the comforting words of a church minister at the time. I had to call Dad's friends back, and tell them the sad news.

Dad died, twenty years to the day, after our Mum had died. This is a very strange coincidence, but it wasn't this that brought back the feelings I felt when Mum died. I was now mourning both of my parents.

It took eight hours to travel back to the UK, due to late connections and bad weather. I was asked at the car hire desk “How has your day been?”, and all I could do was to conjure a clichéd response: “I have had better.”, but I did not know what else to say.

So there was a week of organisation, red tape, collecting Dad's belongings, keeping everyone informed, writing a eulogy and finally a funeral. At times it was very tough, but my brother and I made a good team, and everything went smoothly.

So now, back home in Sweden I have time to reflect on what has happened. Next time you wonder whether you should give your Mum or Dad a call, just do it, none of us will be here forever.

That is all.

LostInTheWoods