Goodbye Dad

Rest peacefully Dad. I love you. 

In the early hours of this morning I received the phone call I have been dreading for months. My Dad had fallen asleep for the last time.

He went peacefully at the end and I am grateful for that. I also know that it is what he wanted. He was tired, and his life had no real quality to it anymore. But of course I can't help the fact that my heart feels as though it has broken into a thousand pieces. Anyone who has been through the bereavement of a loved one will know what I mean.

My Dad was a character. All the nurses loved him. But he retained his stubborn side right to the end. When the buzzer went off in the corridor of the care home a couple of days ago, he still told it to "shut up" several times. And even after he had just collapsed last Friday he was correcting the nurse's use of English even before he was fully conscious again. If he is reading this now he will be telling me off for starting a sentence with the word "and". But he will also forgive me because I have at least acknowledged that I am breaking a grammatical rule. (Same with the word "but").

My Dad was wrong about one thing though. He always thought that he wasn't much of a Dad. I spent years trying to persuade him otherwise, but he would never listen. the truth is that he was GREAT Dad. More than anything, he gave me the knowledge that I have experienced the love of at least one man in my lifetime. And what greater gift is there than that? It is because of him that I love writing and words - and therefore because of him that this blog exists. It is because of him that my own children have been hounded about saying "please" and "thank you" and always trying to be polite. And of course spelling words the way they are supposed to be spelled. It is because of him making me practice that I am quite good at doing sums in my head. Even though he never succeeded in making me enjoy maths!

My Dad was generous and compassionate. He hated the fact that there was so much suffering in the world and that there are still so many people who didn't have enough to eat. He gave his money to those with nothing all his life, and he would have wanted me to carry on doing the same. In his last days he said he would like to win the lottery. I asked what he would do with the money. "I'd give a third to your Mum", he said "and a third to charity" he said. "Someone could do a lot with that."

He loved and admired Shakespeare. He could recite sonnets even at the age of ninety and enjoyed writing poems of his own. During his lifetime he played table tennis, then snooker. He played the violin and at one time enjoyed listening to opera singers. His favourite was Nellie Melba. His favourite colour was lilac.
He also collected pigs and owls and gramophones.  My Dad and I shared a similar sense of humour and even in his last weeks he would tell me about the 35 mile run he had been on that morning....

One of his dying wishes was that one day I would meet someone special to take care of both me and the family.  Someone who would love us all and stick around during good times and bad. I had pretty much given up on the idea of finding love again, but my Dad thought otherwise. He told me that if he had the power to send someone to us once he was gone, then he would do so. I don't know what kind of man my Dad would choose, but it will be someone who always says please and thank you. And definitely someone who is kind to others and knows how to spell. And it won't be Tony Blair.

There would be so much more to say. But only one thing matters. I was lucky to have a Dad like him. I loved him very much. I still do. And I will think about him every day for the rest of my life. Thank you Dad for everything, for being the person you were. I hope that somehow we meet again some day. Until then, as my Dad used to say "God Bless. I love you".