My dad who was previously in relatively good health was taken ill on Wednesday 30th June last year. He collapsed out in the garden down by the silver birch tree. He never regained conscious and died in hospital 8 days later.
My mum found him in the garden. She had been out for the morning at her ladies tap class, like she does every Wednesday.
I apologise if that sounds like a very matter of fact way of describing it, but it's the only way I have of verbalising the event that brought my world crashing down without ending up in tears over my iPad.
Since then, if I can't reach my mum on the phone, I start to worry. My mum had security cameras installed on the outside of the house a month ago, for her peace of mind so if she hears anything outside she will be able to check the cameras rather than venture outside herself.
The problem is, we can also check the cameras, and if I can see the cars on the drive and I can't reach my mum on the phone, I do get very concerned. The logical professor sitting on one shoulder calmly reminds me that my mum is in good health and she just may have gone down the road on foot, or she may be having a shower, or have the hoover/hairdryer on and not be able to hear the phone.
The little demon who perches on the opposite shoulder whispers in my ear that we thought my dad was in relatively good health and she may have slipped in the shower or fallen down the stairs, or, any number of things.
The point of it is this; fear of losing a loved one isn't logical, and it can't be alleviated by logic, no matter how hard you try. The little demon whispering in my ear (whose power to worry me has been magnified tenfold by the untimely tragic loss of my dad) comes up with five scenarios of what could have gone wrong for every logical explanation the professor provides for my mum not answering the phone.
As the phone rings and rings, the ice creeps into my stomach, and every time I relive that day that everything went so very wrong, when my mum phoned me at work to tell me Dad had been taken ill. When eventually I do get hold of her (like tonight for example, when she was in the shower) I feel stupid for worrying. "You shouldn't worry about something that might never happen", people say. Thing is, bad things do happen to good people, and nobody is invulnerable. My dad certainly wasn't.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday 4 January 2011
Saturday 1 January 2011
Remembrance
Dad...so many images come to mind
whenever I speak your name;
It seems without you in my life
things will never be the same.
Some days I hear your voice
and turn to see your face;
Yet in my turning it seems
the sound has been erased.
Who will I turn to for answers
when life does not make sense?
Who will be there to hold me close
when the pieces just don't fit?
Please always know I love you so much
and no one will ever take your place;
Years may come and years may go
but your memory will never be erased.
Today, Jesus, if You are listening
in your home above;
Would you go and find my dad
and give him all my love.
Author unknown.
A New Year. The time to reflect on the past and look to the future. Much as we want to close the door on 2010 as it has been an absolutely horrific year of gargantuan proportions, by doing so it almost feels like we are shutting away the memories of the loved ones we have lost.
To some extent I wish I could shut away those memories, as they still hurt so, so much. Six months on, I still struggle to accept that I will not see my dad again. I have always been a fighter, someone who will find a way to achieve something, no matter how hard, whether or not people tell me it can't be done.
To have to accept that something is inevitable is difficult on a good day. When it's something that has such a high emotional value like the loss of a loved one, the pain just tears at your heart like shards of glass.
New Years resolutions:
To look forward and celebrate each new day.
To try and let go of the little things (this does not mean to stop analysing!)
To learn to cherish the memories of my dad and hopefully let go of some of the pain.
To make my dad proud.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
whenever I speak your name;
It seems without you in my life
things will never be the same.
Some days I hear your voice
and turn to see your face;
Yet in my turning it seems
the sound has been erased.
Who will I turn to for answers
when life does not make sense?
Who will be there to hold me close
when the pieces just don't fit?
Please always know I love you so much
and no one will ever take your place;
Years may come and years may go
but your memory will never be erased.
Today, Jesus, if You are listening
in your home above;
Would you go and find my dad
and give him all my love.
Author unknown.
A New Year. The time to reflect on the past and look to the future. Much as we want to close the door on 2010 as it has been an absolutely horrific year of gargantuan proportions, by doing so it almost feels like we are shutting away the memories of the loved ones we have lost.
To some extent I wish I could shut away those memories, as they still hurt so, so much. Six months on, I still struggle to accept that I will not see my dad again. I have always been a fighter, someone who will find a way to achieve something, no matter how hard, whether or not people tell me it can't be done.
To have to accept that something is inevitable is difficult on a good day. When it's something that has such a high emotional value like the loss of a loved one, the pain just tears at your heart like shards of glass.
New Years resolutions:
To look forward and celebrate each new day.
To try and let go of the little things (this does not mean to stop analysing!)
To learn to cherish the memories of my dad and hopefully let go of some of the pain.
To make my dad proud.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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