9 years gone - My Dad

This time 9 years ago was the worst, well it was the start of the worst, as my Dad was in a Hospice, and he died this day 9 years ago. August in Edinburgh is supposed to be about Summer, the Festival, tourists. For my family back then it was all about waiting for the end.

The Hospice staff were amazing, the care and love they gave him and the other families was second to none. I wished so much for my Dad to get better, for him to want to at least go outside and feel the wind on his face, to see the sun, and listen to the birds, for one last time. The reality was I guess that the silence and peacefulness of his room was the last thing he heard. He died on his own, I believe this was what he wanted, on his own terms. We arrived at his room minutes after he died.

I told him so many times at the end how I loved him, but by then he couldn’t reply. It’s one of the hardest things, never hearing him say he loved me. He did, I know, but still the words would’ve helped. I hope my Dad heard me, I hope he understood how much he was loved by people. Holding his hand in his final days meant the world to me, that human connection was everything.

Families are funny things right, at times we expect so much from one another, we push and take. My hope for my children, and my family is that they know how much love I have for them, that I can listen and hear them and hold the space for them. I believe when it comes down to it, a hug and love will get you through.

I’ve written about death, love and my Dad a lot, the first thing I wrote after he died is: Tam