Still processing the events of the last few weeks and haven’t come out the other end yet.
The things that have lodged in my mind vary from emotionally raw and painful, through just plain funny, to positively uplifting.
Precious time with my father, tending to his failing form and laughing together at some of the unavoidable silliness
Watching him, four days before he died, carefully and methodically doing his utmost to shave himself and brush his teeth independently.
Steering my mother through the the minefield of her dementia as she attempts to navigate the path of events
More or less living in the residential home and experiencing the day to day randomness of a collection of befuddled individuals, my favourite being the quiz and the crossword sessions. Seriously wonderful.
Small pockets of brilliant lucidity between his confusion and delirium where Dad cracks jokes and Mum bosses him about.
Dad looking me in the eye and whispering “Where do we go from here?”
Grappling with the practicalities of arranging a good death, at home, with minimal interference from well meaning medical personnel.
Witnessing the compassion, diplomacy and skill of the palliative care team who helped myself and my family as much as they did my Dad.
Even right near the end, when rousable, Dad’s winning smile as the first reaction to any brief foray into consciousness.
Small (well, some quite large, but in the big scheme of things…) embuggerances:
Unwittingly flooding my elderly uncle’s house from the top floor and only discovering it on day 3 as I stepped out of bed on to a carpet which felt like a soggy sandwich that the juice had leaked over in a poorly packed picnic.
Getting stuck in a 5 hour jam on the M25 on my way to see Dad
Nearly shaving my head in the shower as I lift what I think is the comb to detangle the conditioner in my hair and discovering just in time that I am holding the razor.
Going for a sanity restoring swim and finding I can’t see as my goggles are filling up from the inside. With tears.
A regular stream of irrelevant queries and demands (the normal mother’s burden) by WhatsApp from my own family back home who I have left to fend for themselves, culminating (whilst I sit holding my Dad’s hand) in an unexpected and graphic colour photo of our spaniel’s testicles which, I am informed, have suddenly, impressively and massively enlarged overnight causing panic and dismay to all (apart from the dog, apparently).
Telling them to TAKE HIM TO THE BLOODY VET. Jeez.
As Dad witnessed my first breath, I witnessed his last.
Comfortably Mum 